


Ashes of Eden

by PrimaryScavQueen



Series: Chase the Dark [1]
Category: 12 Monkeys (TV)
Genre: AU of an AU, Alcoholism, Alternate Timeline, Anxiety, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Violence, Multi, OT3, PTSD, Polyamorous Triad, Polyamory, Post Series, Reunion Fic, Sexual Content, Spoilers, Strip Scrabble (yes you're reading that right), Turtles, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-06-16 20:38:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15445386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimaryScavQueen/pseuds/PrimaryScavQueen
Summary: POST SERIESIn 2043, they find each other again





	1. Dear Agony

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Okay! So, I’m making this AU-ish in an AU. Cassie, Cole, and Jennifer are going to be their “normal” ages (30s) in the new 2043 instead of their aged (60s) selves. Because this is my fic and I can do that. Also, Terry said that Deacon’s little brother’s name was Geoff, in honor of Geoff Scovell who portrayed him in the finale (and he was also stunt double for Aaron) via Twitter. I have had a headcanon for years that his name was Shawn. I’m sticking to it. Sorry, Terry. 
> 
> My bestie read this over, focusing on the voice. It has not been edited for grammar and such. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, ect, are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Crossing the threshold of his office door, Deacon sighs. He shuts the door and it muffles the noise from the front of the house. It’s barely even eight and the bar is swamped. He’s thrilled, really. The bar has been a hit since he and Shawn had opened _Brothers Deacon_ two years earlier and business continued to get better. They were actually talking about expanding, opening another location. Possibly teaming up with the microbrewer that made their house specialty brew, _West VII_. All good things—no, _fan-fucking-tastic_ things.

 

Yet here he was in his office chair, his heart hammering in his chest like he just finished a match in the boxing ring. His chest was tight and his breathing was ragged. Fuck. Not this shit again. He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw, trying to create a mental picture of something relaxing. He’s so wound, mind moving so fast he can’t conjure a single image. Sitting down at his desk, he grabs a small yellow notepad and a pen, scribbling down five things he could see around the office: computer, door, picture of him and Shawn the day they opened the bar, calendar, clock.

 

Writing helps his focus remain on the present moment. The list reminds him of where he is. Safe in his office, at the job he loves. Slowly, his heart rate returns to normal and the air expands his lungs smooth and unconsciously. He drops the pen onto the paper and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. From around his neck, he pulls the necklace chain that holds the key to his desk. He unlocks the top drawer and takes out his phone. In the notes app, he notes the time, severity, and length of the anxiety attack. His eyes skim the rest of the notations from the other attacks he’s had in the past month. Hell, the last two weeks is telling enough. Last Monday, last Thursday, last Saturday, last Sunday. Then Monday, Tuesday, and today. They’re becoming more and more frequent, even with the medication.

 

There came a soft rapt at the door, two small knocks in rapid beat. Only one person knocks like that. The others all knock like they’re trying to break the fucking door.

 

“Come in, Max.” He calls, shutting off the phone. The glass on the black screen reflects his face, his somber expression staring back at him. He scrubs his face with his hands as the door opens.

 

Max steps inside, giving him a small nod. “You okay, D?”

 

She’s his best friend and best employee, she sees through his shit. If he denies it, she’ll call him out, so he opts for honesty. “Just needed a minute. What’s up?”

 

“Your girl is here. And she has company for once!” Max laughs soft, taking a moment to sweep her long hair up in a ponytail.

 

Deacon shakes his head. “She’s not my girl. You know we’re just friends.” But he can’t help but smile. Thank Christ for Jennifer Goines. She’s been a permanent fixture at his bar since opening night. She’s funny, a legitimate fucking genius with a weird sense of humor, a rather adorable snort-laugh, an encyclopedic memory for movies and music, and brown eyes that are fathomless. They’re part comforting and unnerving. He’s come to rely on her to anchor him most nights, whether she knows it or not. “A friend, huh?”

 

“Yeah. A gorgeous blond with green eyes that are prettier than as yours.” She grins.

 

“You don’t say?” That’s certain intriguing. Deacon locks his phone back up and returns the key to his neck, sliding it under the neckline of his t-shirt. Climbing to his feet, he crosses the room, pausing as Max’s hand catches his arm.

 

“Third time this week.” She says, her voice quiet.

 

“I know.” He sighs, “I’ll call the doc in the morning. Maybe my body is too use to this dose.”

 

She makes a noise of approval. “Good. If you don’t, I’m going to ride your ass until you do.”

 

“Ride my ass? Who’s the boss here?”

 

She smiles that smile she aims at the customers, the one that gets her the big tips. “You.”

 

He covers her face with his hand. “Stop that, freaks me the fuck out when you try that shit on me.”

 

Her laugh is muffled on his palm. “Okay, okay. Get your big mitt off me. You’ll smudge my makeup. It took me an hour to get my eyeliner perfect.”

 

Lifting his hand, he finds her make up perfect. He drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks, Max.”

 

She shrugs but smiles. “Anytime.”

 

They leave his office and he steps out onto the main floor, surveying his proverbial kingdom.  His patrons look happy, everything looks to be running smoothly. Satisfaction settles into his chest, unknotting the last bits of tension that lingered. He feels lighter, almost back to himself. The sudden sharp tap of Max’s elbow against his sternum drags him from his thoughts. It rattles his lungs just enough to make him grunt. She’s staring up at him with a slightly annoyed look. He knows that expression: she’d been talking while he’s been all up in his head.

 

“Let me know if you need another break.” Max tells him firmly, “I mean it.”

 

Most times, she sees his trouble signs before he even realizes they’re there—booting him from behind the bar with a gentle dismissal. He nods, not bothering to give a verbal answer, absently rubbing his chest. Damn, her strength training lessons are paying off. He’s proud as hell despite the fact he’d been on the receiving end of her razor sharp elbow.

 

His nod is a good enough answer for her and Max departs, walking over to a recently emptied table. He watches her as she begins to clear the pilsner glasses littered across the top. What he ever did to earn such a loyal friend, he’s never quite figured out. He’ll chalk it up to an unsolved mystery and leave it at that.

 

He’d rather figure out a mystery he can actually solve anyways. Like is Jennifer’s friend’s eyes really as pretty as his? He smirks to himself. _Doubtful_. That is until he makes his way to the bar. Deacon catches a glimpse of her face and that smirk fades away, leaving him caught off guard. Gorgeous was the word Max had used. Gorgeous was a fucking understatement.

 

He’s seen his share of beautiful women, been with his share of beautiful women. He’s drawn to her immediately. Not just because she’s stunning. There’s something about her that calls to him, some invisible connection. It’s ridiculous, he knows. Knows very much how insane he sounds. Yet his body decides otherwise, his mouth goes dry. He wants to go to her and wrap himself around her. The urge is so strong his heart begins to pound in his chest. It’s unnerving. Alien. He swallows hard. He needs a drink.

 

When he gets behind the bar, he grabs his favorite bourbon from the display on the top tier shelf of the island and pours himself a shot. He swallows it back in a quick gulp, warmth hitting his chest with enough burn that it begins to slow his pulse back to normal. He promised Shawn he wouldn’t do any more shots while on the clock, especially in front of customers. But right now, he doesn’t give a fuck. Let Shawn be pissed.

 

He can feel Jennifer’s eyes on him and turns to her, greeting her with as carefree as a smile as he can manage. “What’s shakin’, Peaches?”

 

“Having a few drinks with my dear friend Cassie.” Jennifer replies, not taking her eyes off of him. Those dark eyes that he swears can see right through him, “I thought you promised Shawn no more drinking while you’re tending bar?” Her tone is matter-of-fact.

 

He shrugs, “It’s fine.”

 

Jennifer doesn’t look happy but fuck if he’s going to get into it with her right now. He turns his attention on Cassie. Damn, Max was right. Her eyes really are prettier than his. He’s grown adept at reading people, especially since opening the bar and he’ll be damned if he can feel sadness radiating off her. Her smile, however beautiful, is touched with it. Something, someone, hurt her. Yet she’s got a brave face. Something he can relate to all too well. He decides he likes her for that fact alone.

 

“Nice to meet you, Cassie.” He drawls, attempting charm, but he’s off his game enough that he’s not sure how it effective it is, “What can I get ya?”

 

“I’ll take an old fashioned.”

 

Classy cocktail. Classy woman. “You got it.”

 

He gets Jennifer her usual, sliding her a bottle of _West VII_. She snatches it up and tilts it at him in salute before taking a long drink. He answers with a wink before grabbing a rocks glass and popping in a sugar cube, dosing it with three shakes of bitters and a teaspoon of water. He muddles it together with a thin, marble pestle until it’s dissolved. Then he adds some ice and pauses, studying Cassie’s face.

 

“Bourbon or whiskey?” He asks.

 

“Whiskey.” Her voice is quiet and she gets a far away look in her eye, “Thank you.”

 

“No problem.” Deacon continues making her cocktail: adding two ounces of whiskey and stirring it before cutting off a slice of orange peel and squeezing it over the glass, running it along the rim before he drops it in. Finishing it with a maraschino cherry, he places it in front of her.

 

She takes a sip and makes a noise of approval in her throat. It’s a damn good noise. He wants to hear it again and again. “Keep them coming?” She asks with a smile.

 

He smiles back at her. This time, it’s easier. Natural. For both of them, it would appear. “As you wish.”

 

Her smile widens, showing perfect teeth, and she takes another drink. He watches her, eyes following the delicate lines of her throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees one of the other regulars signal for another draft at his seat at the other side of the bar. Deacon grabs a pint and fills it from the tap, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. Christ, he just met the woman and he’s acting like a fucking fool. Then he notices she’s watching him as well and maybe, just maybe, the feeling isn’t just one sided.

 

Tearing his eyes away, he sees he nearly overfilled the glass and pushes the lever back, stopping the stream just before the pale amber liquid can flow over the edge. Christ, that’s embarrassing. _Get a grip._ He scolds himself, _Pour the drinks. That’s what you’re here for._

 

Passing over the full glass and taking the empty one, Deacon sets it in the dirty bin. Now that there’s space between him and Jennifer and Cassie, he watches them interact. They’re talking; Jennifer is her animated, tactile self with big expressions and easy touches. Cassie is coming out of her reserved shell and he can see the sadness lifting from her, relaxing her shoulders, softening her smile. Moving from one side of the bar, back to the other, her eyes catch his from over the rim of her glass. He can feel the smile on his face; it’s not his practiced charming one, the one he uses like a weapon. No. This one fucking goofy. Like a kid with a crush. _Stop mooning, you asshole._ He scrubs his hand over his face, contemplating another shot, wanting to take the edge off.

 

As fate would have it, a new customer steps up to the bar and orders a shot of bourbon. He’s tall, cute, offers Deacon a killer smile. What the hell. Deacon treats him to an upgrade, pouring them both a shot. After clinking their glasses together, Deacon swallows his down, ditching the glass into the rapidly filling bin. The guy pays in cash, tips him well, and gives him his number. Deacon tucks it in his back pocket. Maybe he’s so fixated because he hasn’t gotten laid in a while. It would certainly explain a few things. Perhaps he’ll give him a call. Despite all his other issues, he still has a raging libido. Inconvenient at times but he’s not about to complain about it.

 

With that realization, he’s able act like himself around Cassie. He enjoys making her laugh with tales from the late-night customers. He and Jennifer continue their nightly tradition of building a pyramid out of her empty bottles. Cassie even helps and he’ll be damned if they beat their record. Jennifer whips out her phone and the three of them take a selfie. It’s a damn good picture.

 

Time ticks by and he gets distracted enough by the work that he’s able to get out of his head for a while. But the reprieve doesn’t last. It never fucking does. He nearly drops a bottle of red wine, his palm sweaty enough that the neck slips. Before it can hit the ground, he catches it, and makes it look like it was on purpose, doing some bottle tricks that earn a good amount of applause and more than a good amount of tips in the communal jar that sits on the bar top.

 

When his brother appears, the relief he feels is palpable. It crashes through him from head to toe. Slapping Shawn on the back in hello/farewell, he gets his phone from the office and leaves, heading to his apartment upstairs. Normally he would have stuck around, had some drinks with Jennifer until she calls it a night. But he’s not about to interrupt her evening. She’s never brought a friend before and he’s not about to crash.

 

However tempting it is.

 

In his well-stocked minibar, he grabs his fullest bottle of bourbon. Skipping the glass, Deacon takes a long drink straight from the bottle. With his other hand, he pulls the business card from his back pocket and twirls it down his fingers, contemplating giving cute guy—Devon, according to the front of the card—a call. Instead, he tosses it to the coffee table and settles onto the couch. His phone plays Jennifer’s text alert song and he digs his phone from his pocket. Opening the message, he finds the picture of the three of them together and he finds himself studying Cassie’s smile.

 

_Not hung up, eh?_ His brain taunts. He scoffs to himself and takes another drink. Then another. And another. Until his brain finally goes quiet and the bottle is empty. The last thing he remembers is the neck of the bottle slipping through his fingers as his eyes begin to shut and unconsciousness claims him in its comforting embrace.


	2. Close to Heaven

“Your girlfriend is here.”

 

Deacon looks up from the tablet in his hand. He’s been going over inventory in the storage room as he does every Sunday afternoon after they open. Ryan, the source of the voice, is in the open doorway. Leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest. Hell, even his ankles are crossed. The epitome of relaxed. Jealousy sweeps through Deacon’s blood. Lucky fucking bastard; he couldn’t remember that last time he felt that stress free.

 

“I keep telling you guys, Jennifer is not my girlfriend.” Deacon replies, finishing up mentally counting bottles of _West VII_ and checking the box on the screen; the last item on his list.

 

“No, not her.” Ryan grins, “The gorgeous blond.”

 

“She has a name.” His answer is gruff as shuts off the screen, “It’s Cassie. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

 

Ryan snorts, the disbelief written all over his face. “Whatever you say, boss man.” He shakes his head as he makes his exit.

 

Cassie has been a fixture in his bar, in his life since that night. In just a few months, she quickly joined the ranks of Max, Jennifer, and Shawn as one of his favorite people. This isn’t the first time people have made the assumption they’re dating. He’s quick to correct, of course. She’s a doctor for fuck’s sake. What would she see in a bartender? No matter how charming he may be. And Deacon knows he’s charming as hell. But he’s also as broken as he is charming. No one needs that in their life.

 

He exits the storage room and heads out to the main floor. They’ve only been open ten minutes so it’s mostly staff inhabiting the space. Cassie stands out among them, all light and bright. Her blond hair up at the top of her head in some sort of elegant twist. She’s dressed in an aqua sundress that brushes the tops of her calves. Delicate makeup highlights her eyes and lips.

 

He crosses the floor and she beams at him. “Afternoon, sweetheart.” He greets her with a quick peck on the cheek, “What do I owe this surprise visit?”

 

Okay, there might be a damn good reason people always assume they’re dating; the easy affection being key.

 

“I know this is last minute but there’s a charity art exhibit tonight at that new gallery and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind going with me?”

 

“Are you asking me on a date?” He teases.

 

Her grin is wide. “A friend date. I was Jennifer’s plus one to this charity art thing but she got caught up in something at Markridge. She gave me both tickets and told me I should still go.”

 

Deacon places a hand on his chest in mock offense. “The truth comes out! I’m just the runner up!”

 

She smacks his shoulder lightly. He barely feels the wisp of her fingertips as they graze his shirt front but warmth spreads along the path the trailed. “Deacon, you’re never runner up in my book.”

 

“Be still my heart.” He drawls, his tone is almost sarcastic but his heart really does twist a little. Funny that.

 

“You haven’t actually given me an answer.” Cassie points out, raising her eyebrow.

 

“I’m thinking.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “So how fancy is this thing?”

 

“Passed h’orderves. Suit nice.”

 

“Eh. Dressing up is a pain and h’orderves are usually so fancy they’re nearly inedible.” He says for the sake of being difficult though he already knows his answer is yes. It would take an act of god for him to say no to Cassandra Railly. But he enjoys riling her up. Loves watching her get impatient. She gets all feisty and looks ready to destroy the world when he really gets her going.

 

“There’s an open bar.” She adds.

 

“Next time lead with that.” He tells her and get another light smack for his trouble.

 

“You’re such a dick sometimes.” There’s only gentle teasing in her voice.

 

“I’m a dick all the time, darlin’.” He corrects her, “What time does it start?”

 

“Six.”

 

“Good. I have time to get a jacket.” He hasn’t worn a suit since his grandmother’s funeral. That was ten years ago. He didn’t hold on to it, not with the memories attached to it. Not to mention, he’s gained more muscle in his shoulders since then so he’d have to get something new anyways.

 

She looks like she’s judging him a tiny bit. “You don’t have one?”

 

He’s just slightly offended. “Not my usual style. My preferred jacket is leather.”

 

“Yes, I’m familiar with your coat.” She laughs, all warmth and joy, “Would you like company?”

 

“Yours? Always.” He assures her.

 

Her eyes sparkle. “Sweet talker.” She tilts her chin towards the bar, where he set the tablet, “Are you still working?”

 

“Just finished.”

 

“Care to make a day of it? We could grab lunch, get you a suit. See where the afternoon takes us.”

 

As much fun as he has when it’s him, Cassie, and Jennifer, he enjoys the time he can have alone with her. The dynamic is different; a good different. With Jennifer, they could end up in Paris without a thought thanks to her private plane or in Vegas for weekend. With Cassie, things are much more low key. Nodding, he grabs the tablet off the bar. “Sounds good. Let me put this away and we’ll head out?”

 

“I’ll be here.” She claims her usual seat and smiles as Max greets her from behind the bar.

 

Heading to his office, he locks up the tablet in the floor safe under his desk. He gets his phone from desk and sees a text message from his pharmacy: the refill for his prescription is available. Since talking with his doctor and getting an increased dose, his anxiety attacks haven’t been nearly as frequent. In exchange, he’s been having weird dreams of living during an apocalypse. The world is empty and violent; survival is his only priority, for him and his band of people. The West VII, go figure. Jennifer is there because, of course she would be. She’s old though, dressed in black, complete with a veil. Is she dressed to protect her face? Or is she mourning? He’s not sure.

 

All that he knows is she’s The Mother of The Daughters, her all female ninja warriors. Their groups have an alliance. She smiles like she knows the future. One thing that remains the same: asleep or awake, her eyes still hold that look when she’s watching him and she doesn’t think he knows. Sometimes these dreams feel so real that he’s woken disoriented, heart beating as if he’s been running through the wasteland, fighting for his life.

 

But he’ll take them over the anxiety any day, however messed up they are. He mentally adds a stop to the pharmacy to the list of things to do.

 

Returning to Cassie, he finds her and Max in easy conversation. Cassie fits into his life like a missing puzzle piece. Her corners meet his, edges connecting, flowing into a picture. What kind of picture, he can’t see. Doesn’t need to see it. Simply having her among his most trusted, most loved, is enough.

 

They say good bye to Max and leave the bar. It’s a gorgeous day out; bright sun, cool breeze. Cassie slips her hand in the crook of his arm as they walk. She does it often, her grip firm. Like he’ll slip away from her if she doesn’t hold on. As if he ever would. He thinks it’s connected to the love she lost. She’s only mentioned him vaguely, her voice quiet, pain unmasked in her eyes. It breaks his heart to see her hurt so much. So, he offers what comfort he can, folding his hand over the top of hers, quietly assuring her he’s there and not going anywhere.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He’s sitting on the couch in his living room, slowly sipping some bourbon, dressed in the three-piece suit Cassie picked out for him. The pants and jacket were black as was the tie. The vest was black at the base but had gold designs entwining across the fabric. It almost looked like the inner workings of a clock. It’s a little claustrophobic; anything around his throat sets his heart cantering. But the bourbon helps. It also helps that it’s his second glass. He fights the urge to tug at the tie, loosen the artistic knot Cassie had tied for him. Her having done it for him is what’s stopping him.

 

“How do I look?” Cassie’s voice comes from behind him.

 

Deacon turns and nearly chokes on his tongue, lightening sparking through his veins. The dress she bought to go with his suit is black, nearly see through with all the crochet-looking holes in it. The neckline was high, encasing her throat to the middle and the hemline ended mid-thigh. It was the complete opposite of the sweet dress she had been wearing all day. This screams sex, power. Her blond hair is brushed straight back off her face. Dark grey eyeshadow covers her eyelids while heavy black eyeliner and mascara frame her gorgeous green eyes. Her lips a golden pink, the color is soft but makes her lips stand out all the more. She looks like a wicked queen. One he would gladly serve.

 

“Incredible.” He somehow manages to get the word out without sounding as awestruck as he feels. A miracle, truth be told. Rising to his feet, he abandons his empty glass on the coffee table, and offers her his arm. “Ready?” He asks.

 

Slipping her arm around his, she nods. “I am.”

 

It doesn’t take long to get to the gallery. It’s a short taxi ride through the neon lit city. Stepping inside, he finds that it’s not what he expected. Though, he hadn’t really known what _to_ expect. But it wasn’t this. The main floor is open, there’s a bar set up in one corner, a DJ in another. The art is apparently on the second floor, according to the signs. Also, according to the sign, the art is explicit and erotic. He blinks, re-reading it. What the hell?

 

“Uh, Cassie, sweetheart.” He murmurs, “Do you know what kind of art this gallery is displaying?”

 

She gives him a weird look. “No. Jennifer got the tickets. All I heard was art and charity.”

 

He nods his head in the direction of the sign. “Oh, it’s some kind of art.”

 

“What are you…” She pauses then her eyes go almost comically wide. He has to fight to keep from laughing, “Oh! Oh my.”

 

“ _Oh my_?” He repeats, chuckling lightly, losing the battle, “That’s very PG of you.”

 

Cassie eyes him as she leads the way to the bar. “We don’t have to look.”

 

He doesn’t mind the content. He’s more than curious to what she would think, how she would react. Would she be amused, laugh quietly under her breath? Would her cheeks warm in a blush?

 

In a dark corner of his mind, he wonders if it would turn her on. Would she get restless? Would she ache with need? Fuck. He has to stop thinking that way; it’s nothing more than torture. He leans an elbow on the bar, turning towards her. He still issues the challenge, despite the fact this could be a very dangerous game.  “I’m game if you are.”

 

“Are you daring me?” She asks, ordering a glass of champagne.

 

“Maybe.” He orders bourbon, neat, appreciating the fact though it’s not his favorite, it’s at least top shelf, “Are you afraid of naked bodies?”

 

She takes a delicate sip of her bubbly drink. “Hardly.” Her eyebrows arch, “You?”

 

“Please.” He scoffs, “Lead and I’ll follow.”

 

Cassie makes a face, one that scrunches her nose. It’s fucking adorable. “Ass.”

 

“I know your ass is incredible, why do you think I’m asking you to lead?”

 

She laughs outright and led him up the curling staircase in the back. She might have laughed but he does admire the view, that dress hugs her slim curves just right. At the top of the stairs, the first picture that greets them in considerably tame. It’s a photograph shot in black and white, of a heterosexual couple lounging in a claw foot bath. The woman’s breasts are visible above the water, her back arched. The man’s hand is obscured by the water, presumably between her thighs. The image still makes him swallow hard, his brain more than willing to fill in the blanks of the missing details.

 

Cassie moves on and he follows; they don’t talk throughout the exhibit but Deacon doesn’t mind. He’s a bit enraptured by the pieces. They feature men with men, women with women, threesomes, moresomes. Each striking him with need. He misses being touched, misses fucking. He’s still in a dry spell; hasn’t picked anyone up in months.

He’s going to put an end to that as fast as he can.

 

At one point, he swears he hears her sigh. It’s soft, filled with longing. It resonates in his chest like an ache. He drains the rest of his bourbon, wishing he had another.

 

With his free hand, Deacon reaches out to Cassie. Trails his fingers gently along her arm where her sleeve is split, up to the shoulder, leaving her arm bare; he doesn’t want to startle her as she studies a portrait for two men and a woman, in bed, naked, post coital, their expressions joyous. She shivers at the touch, tilting her head back towards him.

 

“Want to head back downstairs?” He asks softly.

 

Cassie nods and he takes her hand, his fingers lacing with hers. Her skin is warm despite the well air conditioned space.  Back on the main floor, he feels like he can breathe easier. He’d thought they’d at least find some humor up there. He hadn’t been expecting to face the stark reality of what was missing in his life. She seems a little shaken too. He feels like he should apologize but wasn’t sure what he should apologize for. Instead, he goes to the bar and gets them both another drink.  She accepts the flute of champagne with a grateful smile and takes a drink. A deep one. He doesn’t blame her, following suit.

 

She looks at him over the rim of her glass and lets out a soft laugh. “So that was not what I expected.”

 

“Me either.” He admits, “I thought we’d be entertained.”

 

Cassie nods. “Yeah. Me too. I didn’t mind looking at the art with you,” She’s quick to amend before continuing, “it’s just…”

 

“Missing the sexual part of your life?” He supplies, straight to the point.

 

Another laugh leaves her lips but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah.”

 

“Same here.” He sighs, “I’ve been in a dry spell.”

 

“I’m sorry if this is too personal but is it because of your medication?” She asks, ever the doctor.

 

“We’re close enough to talk about this stuff.” He replies with a shrug, they haven’t really talked about it before but it’s not off limits to him, “And no, my sex drive isn’t effected one bit. It’s as high as it normally is. Somedays even more so.” That may be too much information, but she asked and he’s being honest for sake of clarity. She doesn’t seem to mind, looking thoughtful before she speaks again.

 

“Then what’s stopping you? I see all the numbers that you get during your shifts. Men, women, they throw themselves at you pretty regularly.”

 

He hadn’t been aware that she noticed. Her tone was nonchalant but there was something in her face. It wasn’t exactly jealousy, something close. Could she be attracted to him as well? He doesn’t want to entertain the thought, doesn’t want to build up something in his head that isn’t there.

 

“Well, I am dashing and who wouldn’t want to go home with the hot bartender?” He jokes, doing his best to push those thoughts away.

 

“So why not?” She asks again.

 

Why won’t she let this go? Why is the answer so fucking important to her? He takes another drink, inadvertently polishing off the rest of his bourbon while he contemplates his answer. Searching the depths of his mind and libido, he comes up empty. Why not, indeed? “I haven’t been interested lately.” It’s as close to the truth as he can muster.

 

She eyeballs him, looking like she doesn’t quite believe him. Music fills the air around them, a soft, romantic beat. He set down his empty glass on a waiter’s tray as they pass.

 

“Would you like to dance?” He asks, wanting to get off the topic of why, just, why he hasn’t climbed into bed with anyone that would want him.

 

“I would love to.” She ditches her flute on a nearby table.

 

There are other couples dancing on the floor, slowly rocking back at forth. They join the fray, Cassie curls in close and he rests his cheek on top of her head.

 

“This is nice.” She murmurs.

 

He hums an affirmative. Her being this close to him is always nice. She smells like his soap, having showered and gotten ready at his place, and it stirs something in him. He can normally ignore his attraction to her, focus on the fact that she’s one of the most important people in his life. How acting on any desire towards her could ruin what they have. But right now? Right now, he’s acutely aware of how starved he is for a more intimate affection and how easily Cassie could fulfill that need.

 

“We should do this more.”

 

Deacon nearly stills at the sound of her voice but keeps up with the rhythm. He goes for the safety net of humor. “Frustrate ourselves?”

 

She laughs quietly. “No. Dance. I love to dance.”

 

“I’ll dance with you any day.” He promises.

 

“Yeah? Even in the middle of BD’s?” She pulls away, peering at him.

 

He grins. “Especially in the middle of BD’s.”

 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Cassie settles back against him.

 

“Good.”

 

Quiet falls between them again and he wonders if she can hear just how loud his heart is beating. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything.

 

They move in a box step, navigating around other couples that are staying in place. It’s something like a waltz but not as complicated. She’s the perfect partner, moving effortlessly across the floor. When the song comes to an end, Cassie pauses and he comes to a stop as well. She looks up at him and her expression is soft, her smile is that one she gets whenever she lays eyes on him. Like he’s the most important person in her world. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he wants to kiss her. It would only take a small tilt of his head; her heels giving her the extra boost that puts that faces closer than normal. His hands grip her a little tighter but she doesn’t seem to mind. She tilts her head, angling it towards his, lush mouth inches from his, and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s going to do it. He’s going to kiss her.

 

Just as he leans in, there comes a tug on his sleeve and he’s drawn out of the bubble of intimacy that has built around them. Biting back a sharp curse, he pulls back and looks down. There’s a little old lady standing at his elbow, who offers him an apologetic smile, seeming not realize she has the worst fucking timing.

 

“Sorry to interrupt but I wanted to say that you and your girlfriend are lovely dancers. Makes me miss my dear husband.”

 

He opens his mouth, ready to deny that they’re a couple but Cassie’s voice speaks first.

 

“Thank you.” She says and he waits for her to deny it, “We’re a little out of practice.”

 

It takes him by surprise but he follows her lead, offering the granny a small, if strained, smile.

 

“Hush, it was lovely. Sorry again for interrupting.” The old lady says, “I’ll leave you in peace now.”

 

She heads off and Deacon turns his attention to Cassie. His brows furrow as he works to find the words. “Why didn’t you just tell her we weren’t a couple?”

 

Cassie shrugs. “She had already made up her mind about us. You don’t mind that I didn’t correct her, did you?” She raises a brow.

 

“No.” He answers, “Not at all.”   _This is why I haven’t crawled into every bed that’s been offered._ The knowledge slams into him, past all the guards he has in place. He keeps his voice light,“You’re not ashamed to be with a broken bartender even for pretend?”

 

“I would never be ashamed.” Her green eyes are soft. “You’re a good man, Deacon.”

 

Deacon doesn’t kiss her though he wants to more than he’s ever wanted anything on this earth. Instead, he pulls her against him, sighing into her hair. Her arms wrap around his waist, anchoring her body to his. Fuck. What now? What can he do with the overwhelming feelings crashing through his chest?

 

Nothing. He can do nothing. Because she can never be his. Her heart still belongs to her lost love. But his heart doesn’t give a shit. It belongs to her regardless.


	3. Rain

It’s been a long night already and he’s only an hour into his shift. Max seems to sense his stress level and kicks him out from behind the bar, telling him in no uncertain terms to go take a break. He’s not going to argue, agitation has been creeping through his veins, making him edgy, wired. His fists ache with the urge to punch some of the customers that been nothing but assholes to his staff. He grabs his jacket and steps out front, standing under the awning, needing air more than the quiet sanctuary of his office.

 

The air outside is thick, heavy with humidity as rain pours from the dark clouds. It doesn’t quite give him the relief he’s seeking and he scowls at the sky. Thunder rumbles low like a warning, almost feeling like retaliation. _Well fuck you too, Mother Nature._

 

It’s been raining for three days, parts of the city are starting to flood. He’s tired of the goddamn rain. It’s feeding this negative energy inside of him, feasting on his misery. Jennifer and Cassie haven’t been at the bar much this week, work keeping them from joining him. The absence of their warm dispositions is more rattling than he would have expected. Sure, they text him but it’s not the same. Text messages can’t touch him, can’t hug him.  

 

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he leans against the brickwork and draws in a deep breath. He closes his eyes and blows it out. For a moment, he wishes he had a cigar, a cigarette, something to do besides focus inward on his fucked up mood. An older woman with pale blonde hair that has threads of white throughout pauses across from him, readjusting the umbrella she carries as a gust of wind attempts to take it. She curses and it’s not in English, the word accented in a thick accent. German, maybe?

 

Still muttering under her breath, she crosses over to his side of the sidewalk, closing her umbrella as she takes refuge under the awning. With a sigh, she pulls a small case out of her pocket and pops it open with a flick of her thumb. She pulls out a cigarette and he almost laughs at the coincidence.

 

“Can I bum one of those?” He asks.

 

She freezes and her back straightens as his voice registers. When her blue eyes meet his, she regards him with a look that he can only describe as surprise, the cigarette falling from her fingers. A little overdramatic of a reaction but he lets it go. Handing him the cigarette case, he plucks out two and hands it back. She slides it in her pocket and fishes out a lighter. She takes one of the cigarettes from his fingers and puts it between her lips before she lights it. After handing him the lighter, he does the same.

 

Deacon takes a long drag and blows out a long plume of smoke. Some of the tension leaves his body and he hands back the lighter to the woman.

 

“Thanks.” He takes another drag, “Appreciate it.”

 

“ _Bitte._ ” She replies with a nod. German, just as he thought. His knowledge of the language is weak, having only a basic high school language course to learn it. And at that point in his life, he really only cared about the basics: swearing and how to ask for beer. Though he does remember that _bitte_ means you’re welcome. Thanks, Herr Woods.

 

“Deacon.” He offers.

 

“Katarina Jones.”

 

He blinks, nearly choking on smoke. The way her name rolled off her tongue, the sharp point of her chin…they’re familiar. His brain fills in the blank: he’d seen her in his apocalyptic dreams. It should be impossible. But he remembers her distinct voice, her serious eyes, the way she smokes like a chimney. The fierceness of her intelligence and her dry humor.

 

How can he remember someone he doesn’t know? Logic tells him there’s a chance he’s seen her before around the city and thus, she somehow made her way into his subconscious and the rest is mere consequence of what happened in those dreams.

 

That or he’s just gone crazy and starting to have psychic dreams. Mentally scoffing at the idea, he takes another drag. He’s not crazy, nor psychic. He’s just a mess and this rain makes it worse. Making him overthink the little things.

 

“Are you alright?” She drags him from his thoughts.

 

“Rough night.” He answers, flicking some ash off to the side, “This rain is driving me crazy.”

 

She nods, blowing smoke. “It’s a bit much. So, is this bar yours?”

 

“Yep. Me and my brother own it. Been open two years.”

 

There’s a softness to her smile he didn’t expect. “You and he are close, I take it.”

 

“He’s all the family I have.”

 

“No spouse or children?”

 

He snorts. He can barely even imagine having a relationship. A spouse or child is something that he doesn’t ever see in his life. “God no.” He drops the cigarette to the ground and snubs it out under the toe of his boot, “You?”

 

“Husband, daughter.” She smiles, “Both brilliant, wonderful.”

 

“That’s great.” He says faintly, his heart hammering a little harder when he realizes he means it; it’s not just polite lip service.

 

She looks down at the cigarette between her curled fingers. “My daughter has been after me to quit.” Her voice is almost wistful.

 

“Why haven’t you? They’re terrible for your health.” Ever the hypocrite, he wants another. Wants to keep talking to her. There’s something oddly comforting about her, like she’s an old friend. It’s better than going back and serving the annoying douchebags.

 

Katarina sighs. “They remind me of another time in my life. I wouldn’t say it was a better time by any stretch of the imagination but there are times I miss it, moreso the people in it, nonetheless.”

 

“Ah.” He sort of gets it, generally speaking. His life is pretty much divided into times of bad, worse, a goddamn nightmare, shaky ground, improvement, stability, shaky stability. This time in his life is actually the happiest he’s been ever. He doesn’t miss any part of his past. But not everyone has had a shitty life.

 

“Should you be going inside?” She asks after a moment of companionable silence.

 

“I should.” Deacon admits, his voice as reluctant as he feels. He’s too tired to disguise it for the sake of politeness, “Would you like to come in for a drink? On the house.”

 

She tilts her arm and looks down at the watch on her wrist. It’s not a delicate thing, like he sees on most women around here. It’s thicker, practical. He likes that. “Another time, maybe. I must be going home.”

 

He smiles slowly, echoing her words. “Back to that wonderful, brilliant family.”

 

“Indeed.” She opens her umbrella back up, “It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Deacon.”

 

The way she says _Mr. Deacon_ makes his stomach drop to his feet. His pulse hammers in his ears. “Likewise, Katarina.” He replies, focusing on keeping his voice steady.

 

With a smile and a brisk nod, she turns on her heel and heads out into the rain. He watches her go, his stomach still churning with…déjà vu, it’s the only word he can think to describe the way his body is reacting. Now he feels worse than when he walked outside. _Mr. Deacon_ …

 

Her voice echoes around in his head and he leans back against the bricks heavily, seeking something solid for an anchor. Closing his eyes, he tries to focus on what around him: the hard surface of the bricks, the misting bits of water that reach him past the awning, the taste of nicotine on his tongue. The smell of rain in the air. But it’s not enough. It doesn’t ground him. Panic rises swift in his chest, spiking his heart, wringing his lungs. A groan builds in his throat as he slams the bottom his fist against the brick. The pain helps, pulling him back from the brink. He does it again. And again. Until each fresh wave of pain crashes over the anxiety and blankets it, smothering it.

 

A sudden touch to his face makes him jolt, his eyes flying open. Max’s mouth is moving and he tries to focus on her words. When he can finally understand her, he discovers that she’s not talking, she’s singing softly. It’s an older song. More of a jingle, really. Now that he can make out the words, he realizes it’s a jingle for a local cake company. He hasn't heard it in nearly twenty years. 

 

“Why are you singing that song?” He asks.

 

“It’s been stuck in my brain all day.” She drops her hand from his face and shrugs.

 

He tries to smile. “And now it will be in mine.”

 

Max pats his arm. “Better than whatever was going on in there a moment ago.” She studies him, “Were you triggered by something?” Her tone is gentle, eyes worried.

 

“You could say that.” He exhales heavily and lifts his hand, flexing his fingers. There’s some protesting in his bones and blood flows from a gash along the side of his palm. But it’s not broken.

 

“D!” Max chides gently, carefully grabbing his hand and examining it, “What did you do?”

 

“It looks worse than it is.” He assures her, trying get her to stop fussing at him.

 

“Okay, you’re not going back in there tonight. I’m calling Shawn. You’re going upstairs.” Max orders in the way only she can.

 

“Fine.” He’s not in the mood to argue or fight. He’s been fighting himself enough, he doesn’t need to add her to the mix. Especially when she’s only trying to take care of him.

 

He heads up to his apartment, shoving off his boots, and goes straight into the bathroom to clean the wound. After it’s washed and dried, he carefully applies antibacterial ointment and wraps it in gauze, thankful that he had bashed his non-dominant hand. With a sigh, he scrubs his face with his undamaged hand and walks to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of bourbon he had started last night. Max walks in as he’s pouring himself a generous glass.

 

“Do you think that’s a good idea, D?” she asks as she shuts the door, toeing off her chucks.

 

He shrugs. “Probably not but I’m going to do it anyways.”

 

Max sighs and it’s that sigh he’s heard so many times through the years. It’s the one she has for when she’s tired of his shit. Uh-oh. Seems that she’s in no mood either. He grabs a second glass and fills it. He grabs his and carries her in his wrapped hand, relieved when it doesn’t hurt as much as he expected. She takes it with a scowl. They settle on opposite ends of the couch and sip their whiskey in quiet. The rain falling against the window makes for nice ambience usually but he’s tired of his listening to it after three days.

 

Grabbing the remote, he turns on the TV and finds a movie they can both tolerate: Charade. It’s ancient by any standards but the story holds up, as does the humor.

 

“I know by now that you don’t typically talk to anyone outside your therapist about these episodes…” Max says softly, not taking her eyes off of Cary Grant fully clothed in the shower, making Audrey Hepburn laugh, “But you can talk to me, you know?”

 

“I know.” He reaches over and pats her knee, “It’s nothing for you to worry over. I’ll be fine. Just having a bad night.”

 

The words came off easy but lately he feels like he’s two people. He doesn’t quite know how to put it in words but it’s been happening more often than not. Those apocalyptic dreams are starting to feel more than just dreams, they’re starting to feel like memories. It’s disorienting. He hasn’t mentioned them to anyone, not even his therapist. Doesn’t plan on it, either. Because as real as they feel, in the end, their just dreams…

 

Before he can contemplate those thoughts further, his door opens. Twisting his neck, Deacon watches Shawn make his way inside, three large pizza boxes balanced across his right palm.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Deacon calls to him.

 

Shawn lets out a bark of a laugh. “Aren’t you?” He fires back as he sets the pizza on the kitchen counter, “Binx has everything covered; she’s our best manager besides Max. That’s the thing about having hired good staff, bro. We don’t have to live in the bar.”

 

Deacon doesn’t admit it but his little brother makes a damn good point. He shoves himself up off the couch and heads over. The smell of sauce, garlic, cheese, and meat hit his nose and his stomach lets out a deep growl of want. Shit, maybe skipping lunch hadn’t been a good idea. Shawn grabs some paper plates from an overhead cabinet by the stove and shoves one into Deacon’s hands. If he notices the bandages, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he passes a plate over to Max as Deacon moves the boxes so they’re side by side, flipping open the lids as he goes. Meat lovers for Max, the ever disgusting combination of ham, pineapple, and onion for his brother, and a marghertia for him.

 

Grabbing three slices of the thin crust pizza, Deacon returns to the couch. Max takes her place on the otherside and Shawn plunks right down between them with enough force that Deacon sways a bit.

 

“Jesus, don’t break my couch.” He grumbles before taking an oversized bite, his stomach demanding he put as much food as possible in as fast as possible.

 

“Get sturdier furniture.” Shawn retorts.

 

“I did, jackass.” Deacon rolls his eyes. It’s true, he paid a pretty penny for this couch from one of those boutique furniture stores. But once he sat his ass down on it, he hadn’t wanted to get up or leave the store without it.

 

Shawn mimics his words in a falsetto. Deacon rolls his eyes and shoves more pizza in his mouth.

 

Max groans loudly. “You two are grown adults, you know that right?”

 

Deacon shares a look with Shawn. “I am but he’s not.” They say in unison and then laugh together.

 

“Children and in stereo denial. Great.” Max says in an ever suffering tone.

 

Deacon grabs his bourbon and smiles into his glass before he takes a sip. This is what he needed. Some time with his brother and his best friend. Time out of his head and something normal. Shawn bitches about their movie choice so they flip through the guide and bitch about the fact that even in 2043, there’s millions of channels to choose from and yet nothing on. In the end, they settle on an old sitcom, and wax nostalgically.

 

By two in the morning, they’re still going strong. Shawn is going on about getting his hair cut which Deacon is in favor for. The shaggy haired look makes him look sloppy. Max is against it. He argues that she’s against it just because he’s rooting for it. That sparks livelier debate. They finally settle down after Shawn decides he’s chopping his hair, regardless of what they think. Debating worked up an appetite and Deacon scavenges in the kitchen for any remaining pizza. His is long gone. Shawn still has two pieces and Max’s has four. He’d rather throw Shawn’s in the garbage than eat it. Resisting the urge, he grabs two meat covered pieces and returns to the living room.

 

“Feeling better?” Shawn asks, his tone surprisingly somber.

 

Deacon nods. “Much.” He says through a mouthful. He elbows his brother, “Thanks.”

 

Shawn just smiles. “Dude, we’re family. It’s what we do.”

 

Deacon grabs his bourbon glass, lifts it in salute. Max and Shawn grab theirs as well and they clink them against theirs.

 

“Hell yeah it is.” Max agrees.

 

Deacon smiles and drains the remains of his bourbon. He’ll drink to that any day.


	4. Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: discussion of murder, attempted murder, and child abuse
> 
> (There's also lots of fluff, I promise. This chapter is complete Deacon and Jennifer fluff)

 

 

Sleep was ripped away from him so sharply, he wasn’t sure what was happening. He’d been dreaming again, dreaming of that world. So immersed in it that it felt just as real as when he opened his eyes. It took him a second to realize he was sitting up straight, his heart beating so fast it drowned out the world around him. Sweat dripped down from his throat to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Then he realized his hunting knife was in his hand and it was pressed against the throat of a wide eyed but very peaceful looking Jennifer Goines.

 

“The fuck?” He can barely get the words out, they’re as shaky as his hand as he quickly drops the blade to the mattress, “Jennifer, I’m sorry. Fuck.”

 

Sorry doesn’t cover it and he tries not to panic more. Her dark eyes, though wide, are filled with concern. For herself? For him? He doesn’t know. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Jennifer reaches out to him and frames his face with her hands. They’re cool against his skin and he shivers.

 

“Breathe with me.” She murmurs, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

 

He tries but a keening noise leave his throat. There’s a shine in her eyes, it catches in the dim light of his bedroom and she takes another slow breath. Tears fall down her cheeks as they work through it, until his breath is in sync with hers. With his heart rate back to normal, his body sags and he falls back against his pillows.

 

“What are you doing here, Peaches?” He asks.

 

“I had been calling and texting but you didn’t answer. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She replies, “Wasn’t expecting an ambush.” She makes that quiet huff of a laugh.

 

“I’m so fucking sorry for that.”

 

“It was my bad.” She shrugs and hands him the blade, “Do you always sleep with a knife?”

 

He nods, dropping it over on his nightstand. “When I’m alone, yes. Have since I was…eleven.” Since that night. He closes his eyes and feels Jennifer moving across the mattress.

 

When he opens them, she’s next to him, stretched out, cradling her head on her propped up arm. “That seems young.”

 

“I was.” He murmurs.

 

Jennifer reaches over and grabs up the sheet, blotting his chest before she settles her head onto his bare chest. “What happened?” She asks softly.

 

He closes his eyes again, this time fighting the burn of tears. “My father was a terrible man. Drank hard, hit us—my mother, Shawn, and I—harder.” He swallows as his throat tightens, “When I was eleven, he…beat her to death. I tried to stop him…he tried to kill me too. The neighbors must have called the cops because they came in time to save me…but it was too late for her.” Tears fall down, hot against his skin.

 

“Oh, Deacon.” Jennifer sniffles and she squeezes his ribs, “I’m so sorry.” There’s anguish in her voice and he can feel her tears as they fall onto his skins.

 

“Me too.” There’s nothing else he can say to her sympathy. He strokes her hair and lets out a shuddering breath.

 

“Is that why you have anxiety attacks?”

 

He makes an affirmative noise in his throat. “And PTSD.”

 

Jennifer squeezes him again. “I’m sorry.”

 

Quiet falls between them and he continues to stroke her hair, the soft strands feel like silk across his fingers. “I want to treat you today.” She murmurs after a bit.

 

“Not necessary.” He assures her, “I’ll be fine, Jennifer. I have my medication, my therapist. I have Shawn and Max looking out for me, I have you and Cassie. The bar. Stability. My life is good now.”

 

“Regardless, I’m making today about you.” She tuts at him, “Nothing is too outlandish. Want to go to Vegas to party and gamble? I’ll fuel the jet. Want to go soak up the sun while we float in the Mediterranean Sea? I’ll get our passports. Want a new twenty-four-karat knife? Yours. Wanna ride a unicorn? We’ll go to my house and visit the herd. There’s a few that like to be rode.”

 

He chuckles. She’s too much sometimes. Too generous for her own good. His shitty childhood is hardly worth her dropping a fortune on him. “Jennifer—“

 

“Bup bup bup!” She chides, “I can hear the protest in your tone. It won’t do.” She pushes herself up into a sitting position, “I can’t fix what happened to you. I don’t have that power. But I can help build more happy memories.” He can see her throat work as she swallows, “Let me do that. Please?”

 

Deacon studies her, knowing that arguing against her is a losing battle, and frankly he doesn’t want to fight with her. “Fine.” He gives in and she grins wildly.

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t go to Europe. Nor do they hop on the jet to go to Vegas, though he’s damn tempted. They do wind up at her place but not riding unicorns. They’re sitting in the hot tub, drinking obscenely expensive bourbon, smoking cigars, and lounging while they watch the unicorns run past across the wide acreage of her property. Not a bad way to relax, honestly. Every once and a while, the breeze kicks up, cooler than the temperature of the water but it feels good. Jennifer is wearing a brightly colored bikini, her long dark hair loose, floating in the water around her. The way it moves with the power of the jets, it almost looks alive. She kinda looks like a mermaid.

 

Deacon may be a little drunk.

 

He sets his glass of bourbon down and submerges further into the water, until it reaches his chin. 

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jennifer tilts her head, making her hair spread out further.

 

“You look like a mermaid.” Yep, he’s drunk, he’s lost his filter.

 

She laughs and snorts. “You got wasted fast.”

 

“I’ve had practice.”

 

One of the unicorns walks up onto the patio and snuffles the top of Jennifer’s head. She giggles and kisses the wide bridge of its nose, murmuring to it quietly. Maybe she really is a mermaid. Why else would you bring another mythical creature to life? Her standard answer was “why not?” And frankly, there’s no arguing that. A sudden _woosh woosh woosh woosh_ noise above his head alerts him to the presence of another unicorn. Except this one isn’t here for cuddles. It’s attempting to eat his hair.

 

“Hey!” He mutters, attempting to steer its attention away.

 

Jennifer laughs. “Matilda, go play. Leave Deacon alone.”

 

The unicorn makes a soft noise and ambles off. He’s relieved, considering getting on the bad side of a unicorn could mean an impaling. The unicorn that was cuddling her joins its herdmate and Deacon watches them go. Truly an incredible sight. One he’s still not use to even after two years. Jennifer creeps into his peripherals and he sits up a straighter, until his shoulders are above the water. She moves into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It’s one of the things he can always count on: Jennifer and her affection, her cuddles. It’s something he doesn’t realize he’s missing until she’s around.

 

He rests his cheek against her head. “So what’s next, Peaches?”

 

“I have ideas…but first, I think we need to take a selfie and send it to Cas.” Jennifer reaches over the edge and grabs up her phone before cuddling back against him

 

He smiles up at the camera and she snaps the picture. “Isn’t this a tad mean? Us, relaxing, day drinking, while she’s at work?”

 

“Nah!” Jennifer quickly types a message and he catches _wish you were here!_ As its send off.

 

There’s almost an instant reply. _Wish I was too. Miss you both!_

 Jennifer sends back a kiss emoji and sets her phone back down.

 

“So, what are your ideas? Or are you just going to kidnap me and leave me in suspense?”

 

“That is always an option with me.” She grins, “So, I bought a hotel and it’s undergoing some remodeling and I was thinking we could go and help with some of the demo…”

 

Of course, she randomly bought a hotel. But breaking shit with sledgehammers does hold a massive appeal. “That’s a viable one.”

 

“Thought as much.” She continues, drifting off his lap and half floating in the middle of the hot tub, “Then I figured after demo-ing until the crew kicks us out, we could walk around the city and stop wherever our hearts desire. Restaurants, shops, strip clubs, whatever.”

 

He chuckles a bit at the suggestion of a strip club but doesn’t discount it by any means. It’s been a while since he’s just let the afternoon take him where it may especially with Jennifer. Being with her usually leads to some sort of adventure. “Sounds good.”

 

She beams. “Alright, let’s get dressed then!”

 

 

 

 

An hour later, they stand outside the Emerson Hotel. He’s passed it a million times over the years; it’s one of those places that never seems to get abandoned. It’s been bought and restored a few times in the last ten years alone. What’s the appeal to it, he’s not quite sure. Crossing the threshold into the lobby, a hollow feeling grows in his chest. Like he knows this place though he’s never knowingly stepped inside of it. Jennifer skips on ahead, weaving her way past thick plastic tarps, towards the loud buzzing sound of a saw. Jennifer wielding anything remotely dangerous fills him with unease. It doesn’t mix well. Shoving the haunted feelings way down, he follows after her.

 

A contractor named Jacob sets them up in the bar. Whoever remodeled last tore apart the classic façade to make it more modern. When Jennifer showed Deacon the pictures of what it used to look like, he wanted to punch the person who ruined such beauty. Once he’s clad in a hard hat, a mask that covers his nose and mouth, with clear safety glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and work gloves covering his hands, he’s handed a sledgehammer.  He swings it, enjoying the heft and weight in his hands. Looking over at Jennifer, he finds her eyes almost manic with excitement.

 

“Let’s do this!” She cries, bouncing on the tips of her toes.

 

Jacob gives them the go-ahead and Deacon moves to the opposite side from where Jennifer stands. He readies a firm stance and swings the sledgehammer, arcing it over his shoulder with as much force as he can muster. It hits the god-awful looking bar and crashes right through it. Adrenaline spikes and he grins and does it again. The sound echoes around them into something thunderous and the destruction brings out something primal in him. He fucking loves this. It’s right up there with good bourbon and sex, if he’s being honest. The instant satisfaction is an incredible high. By the time the bar is completely demolished, he’s breathing hard. Sweat has broken out along his hairline, threatening to drip down his forehead.

 

Ditching the sledgehammer in the corner, he steps out into the lobby and yanks the mask from his face. Breathing in somewhat fresher air is relief to his lungs. He removes the rest of the safety gear and sets it on the front desk. Jennifer likewise peels hers off and there’s a big grin on her face. He catches her shoulders with his arm and tugs her in.

 

“Damn, Peaches, we should do that more often.” Deacon laughs.

 

“Right!” Her voice is rough with excitement and she lets out a bark of a laugh.

 

“I don’t know about you but I could use a drink.”

 

“Absolutely!” She agrees, “Something cold and possibly alcoholic?”

 

“Mine will definitely be alcoholic.” He chuckles.

 

“Let’s go!” She does a graceful spin out of his arm and flounces towards the front door.

 

They end up at a bar at the end of the street. The place is alright but he’s not judging too hard after they place a nice cold beer in his hand. He didn’t realize he was as thirsty as he was; chugging down the pint in one go. Jennifer stares at him.

 

“What?” He drawls with a shrug, “I told you I needed a drink.”

 

She shakes her head and drinks her beer with a little more delicacy. He’s tempted but he doesn’t order another and she doesn’t seem to want to linger either. After paying for their drinks, he offers Jennifer his arm and they walk along the street, heading in the opposite direction towards Central Park. He hears Jennifer squeal as they cross onto the first sloping path.

 

“Puppies!” She points to a wire cage that’s set up under the shade of a tall tree.

 

Six puppies of varying breed are inside. Three are sleeping in a content pile. The other three are playing together, letting out little growls and barks. There are other cages too. Some cats, older dogs are in them. There’s a sign hanging from a table that advertises an adoption fair. Naturally, they veer off the path and cross the soft grass. Jennifer greets the playing puppies with near childlike enthusiasm. It makes him smile.

 

While she’s focused on them, he looks at the other dogs. Cats aren’t his favorite; he has absolutely nothing against them but if he were to humor getting a pet, he would want a dog. It was one of those things he wanted as a child but never got to experience. Which, in hindsight, is a blessing. His father was more than okay beating his wife and small children, who knows what he would have done to an animal?

 

He pauses at a cage with a black lab. It’s about medium sized and its long tail thumps against the bars when it realizes Deacon hasn’t moved on. It looks up at him with deep brown eyes and it licks at the air, trying to reach the fingers he’s placed on top of the cage. Cute. The sign on the outside of the cage says his name is Amadeus. His owner apparently passed away and had no family, so he ended up in the shelter.

 

“Would you like to play with him?” A voice asks behind him.

 

Deacon turns towards the source and blinks. A nun, of all people, is standing behind him with an older, yet kind, face. She honestly reminds him of his grandmother and it’s a little unnerving. He nods and she steps around him and gets the dog out of the cage, attaching a leash to the simple collar around his neck. Handing him the other end of the leash, she smiles and goes to greet other people that just walked up.

 

He casts a look over to Jennifer, who is laying on the ground, swamped by all six puppies now. She’s laughing and making kissing noises, happy as could be. He looks down at Amadeus who is sitting at his feet, staring up at him. Deacon sits against the base of the tree and lets the dog sniff him for a while. Amadeus slowly makes his way up to Deacon’s face, where he immediately begins to lick him right across the cheek.

 

“Down.” He mutters quietly and is completely shocked when Amadeus does.

 

Not only does he stop but he sits. Deacon scratches his ears, earning an open mouth, tongue lolling expression of joy. “Good boy.” He murmurs, dropping his hands.

 

Amadeus nudges at them with his nose, then paws at them to get his point across. Deacon chuckles and scratches his ears some more. This time when he finishes, the dog curls up next to his legs and rests his head on his thigh. Amadeus licks his muzzle once and yawns, staring up at him with big eyes. _Well, it looks like I’m getting a dog today._ Deacon can’t even contemplate leaving him here even though it’s just been mere minutes. Fucking ridiculous; he’s a goddamn sap.

 

Jennifer plops down on his other side and Amadeus lifts his head, regards her for a minute, and settles back down. Deacon takes it as a sign that he deems her worthy.

 

“Who’s your friend?” Jennifer asks, reaching over his lap and petting Amadeus’ head.

 

“His name is Amadeus.”

 

“Well, that’s a mouthful.” Jennifer chuckles as the dog gives her palm a lick.

 

“It suits him though.” Deacon can’t describe it but the name just feels right.

 

“It does.” She agrees, “Want me to get the paperwork?”

 

“Sure.” Despite the fact there’s a root beginning to dig into his ass, Deacon doesn’t want to move, the dog is clearly comfortable. He sighs and gives his neck a quick rub as Jennifer returns, clipboard in hand.

 

After the paperwork is completed, they leave the park in search of a pet store. Amadeus impresses him more and more; the dog is excellent on the leash, stays back his side. Ignores everyone and any other dog that comes his way. He doesn’t get aggressive either. He’s just focused. Inside the pet store, Deacon picks out the essentials while Jennifer pauses to coo at a baby turtle on display. He adds the turtle to his purchases. Her expression is so very priceless. She’s happy and it resonates in his chest.

 

Jennifer names the turtle Terry.

 

She heads home to get him settled and Deacon does the same. Amadeus’ nails click along the hardwood floor as he explores the apartment. Deacon sets down one of the dog beds he bought near the coffee table and Amadeus settles into it. Unable to stop himself, Deacon takes a picture and texts it to Cassie.

 

_I guess I’m a dog person now._

 

Yep. He’s a fucking sap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to Destany_Mitchell, my dear bestie, for not only reading this over, but for helping me name Amadeus. (If you're a fan of the show Lucifer, go check out her fic "Endless" here on AO3)


	5. Give Me A Sign

The house stands on a hill, in the middle of an empty field, fringed by deep woods. The outside was unkindly aged by time. It looks haunted. Feels that way too. If this was a horror movie, this would be the house that the killer would live in. He casts a glance at Cassie, who is beaming up at it. Past her, Jennifer’s expression is something between unease and excitement which is interesting to see. Sitting at his feet, pressed into his left side, Amadeus doesn’t share his misgivings. But then again, he’s a dog. And Deacon is projecting. At least that’s what his therapist would say anyways.

 

“You…bought this?”

 

Her smile fades just a bit, dimming her eyes, and he instantly feels like an ass. Christ, he didn’t mean to knock her enthusiasm. He just…doesn’t get the appeal.

 

“I wanted a house in the country. Something of a fixer upper. Something that’s…mine.” She explains, her voice soft.

 

“Well, you got your wish.” He attempts an encouraging smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “How’s the inside?”

 

She leans into him for a moment. “I got the key today. Would you like to see it?”

 

If only to ensure the fact it’s not haunted, nor a serial killer hiding in there somewhere. “Lead the way.”

 

Stepping out from under his arm, Cassie leads the way up the long driveway and to the porch. The wood groans and creaks under their feet but holds their weight, much to his relief. Inside isn’t as horrible and dilapidated as he thought it would be. It’s very shabby, clearly built in a style long past. It reminds him of the original pictures of the Emerson; classic. Cassie leads them through the house, telling them how she plans to fix each room, update the heating and electric throughout, install air conditioning. Then there’s painting and decorating. He has to hand it to her, she certainly had a plan.

 

Jennifer touches the ugly wallpaper of the front room after they head back downstairs. There’s a wistful look on her face, her eyes are far away. There’s one thing about her eyes, their uniquely expressive, animated. Knowing her as well as he does, he likes to think he can read them well. Right now, she’s not here with them.

 

“Jennifer?” Cassie’s voice is a question.

 

“Hmm?” Jennifer hums, blinking, “What?”

 

“You okay?” Deacon asks, hand unconsciously tightening around Amadeus’ leash,  fingers sinking into the leather.

 

“Oh yeah.” She smiles and it’s her normal bright smile, “Just thinking of things.”

 

“What the hell were you thinking about that made you have that look on your face?” He can’t help but ask.

 

Her smile softens. “Past things. Another life.”

 

“Okay.” He accepts the answer at face value; Jennifer is eccentric. She believes in past lives. He doesn’t _not_ believe in them so who is he to tell her anything different.

 

He’s surprised, however, by Cassie’s reaction to that answer. She looks like she could cry. He blinks. There’s parts of her that are no nonsense, logical to a fault. Yet she stands there, expression fragile. He wants to comfort her; does comfort her. He draws her against him and he brushes his lips to the top of her head. She hugs him back, arms tight around his waist.

 

“So when do the workers come out?” He asks her, hoping to drag her from whatever is making her morose.

 

Cassie clears her throat quietly. “Monday. It should be about a month before everything’s done.”

 

“Not bad.” He gives her a smile.

 

She smiles back and it’s like the sun. “I’m nothing if efficient.”

 

 

 

It’s a three hour car ride back into the city. By the time they arrive at Deacon’s, both Cassie and Jennifer agree they don’t want to travel anymore for the night. Even the relatively short time it would take to get back to their places. Jennifer declares they’re officially having a sleepover and there’s an almost unholy gleam in her eyes as she says it. Once they’re through the door, Deacon unhooks Amadeus’ leash and he bounds into the apartment, finding his favorite chew toy and proceeds to “bury” it in the corner. There’s a restless energy flowing in Deacon’s legs, his chest. He doesn’t want to sit down. He glances at Cassie and Jennifer and they’re not sitting either.

 

“Okay, if we’re going to do this right, we need snacks.” Jennifer declares as she leans against the kitchen counter, “Deacon has the liquor part down but we need actual food too.”

 

“Who says?” Deacon retorts.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cassie shaking her head. They ignore him and continue making a plan.

 

“I’ll go get junk food,” Jennifer declares, “Cassie, you’re on desserts.”

 

“I think I can manage that.” She laughs.

 

“Deacon?”

 

“Yes, Peaches?”

 

“What do you want for dinner? Chinese or pizza?”

 

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Chinese.”

 

“Cas?”

 

“Chinese does sound good.”

 

“Chinese it is.” Jennifer declares, “Deeks, order one of those family dinner things that has a few different meals and lots of egg rolls.”

 

He finds his take-out menu stash and flips through it until he finds his favorite Chinese place. “Chicken, beef, shrimp, pork?” He asks them.

 

“Chicken!” They reply in unison before they head out the door.

 

“Chicken it is.” He mutters to himself and calls to place the order.

 

 

 

 

After they’ve eaten their fill, they lounge in the living room with the TV on for noise in the background as they talk. And have drinks. Many, many drinks. He’s got a great buzz going and Jennifer is definitely tipsy. Cassie is a wildcard because she manages to get drunk under the radar. She tends to blush more when she’s drunk.

 

“Is this time the you two experiment with each other?” Deacon teases. It’s the most stereotypical thing he can think to say and it hits right on the mark.

 

“Noooooo!” Cassie cries, making a face, “Deacon! Don’t be that guy!”

 

“One: that only happens at some sleep overs. Never mine but I’ve heard things.” Jennifer adds, “Two: Cassie is absolutely gorgeous and has a great rack but there’s no part of me that wants to be all up in her business.”

 

Cassie’s brows promptly furrow and the corners of her eyes scrunch as she laughs helplessly. “Uh, thanks?”

 

“You’re welcome!” Jennifer trills and she gets that unholy look in her eyes again, “But since Deacon brought up dirty things, how about we play strip poker.”

 

Deacon takes a drink. “Don’t have any cards.”

 

“Fine, what games do you have?” She’s hellbent on them playing.

 

He has precisely four games in his office closet. Clue, Monopoly, Uno, and Scrabble. Of the four, Clue is the least harmless, while Monopoly tends to draw blood. Well, when he plays with Max and Shawn, anyways. Which is why it was banished to the bottom of the pile.

 

“Strip Scrabble it is.” Jennifer declares and sets up the game after he hands her the box.

 

 

 

 

 

Deacon knows he’s a smart man. He’s well read. He knows more than he lets on most days. But playing this game was a mistake. A big one. Why the fuck did he agree to fucking strip Scrabble against a MD and a PhD?! Especially since they seem to be playing for blood and using medical terminology. His highest point work was _gherkins_.

 

He looks at his tiles and curses under his breath. He’s down to his boxers and socks while Jennifer and Cassie have more clothes on than when they started. Probably to make a point; Cassie is wearing his shirt over her own while Jennifer slid his pants over hers.

 

“Fuck.” He growls as he loses another round and strips off his socks, tossing them into the corner, “I should have lobbied harder for Uno.”

 

Jennifer cackles and a smug smile graces Cassie’s lips. God, that smug smile looks good on her. Given his almost exposed state, he promptly shuts that thought process down.

 

“Keep laughing, Peaches.” He retorts, “We’re all running low on tiles.”

 

“You’ll still be naked before we even take off a piece.” She taunts.

 

Surprisingly, he makes it through two more rounds with his boxers safe. Cassie loses twice and sheds her shirt. It’s impressive because she doesn’t take his shirt off to do it; she does it all underneath. Her pants join the shirt on the floor. His shirt his long on her so it covers her to the tops of her thighs, but shows off her fantastic legs. Jennifer lets out an appreciative wolf whistle where Deacon wouldn’t dare. Cassie laughs it off, blushing adorably. When Jennifer loses, she ditches her shirt. She’s wearing a bra and it covers her more than her bikini top did so it’s nothing he hasn’t seen.

 

The last hand brings his fate: _good bye boxers_. He eyeballs them both and they’re grinning. “Do you really want me to do this?” He asks, “You want to see me naked that bad?”

 

“Thems the rules.” Jennifer grins.

 

“I say you can keep them on.” Cassie replies, giving him an out, “I’m not going to look.”

 

“Oh, I am!” Jennifer crows.

 

“As you wish.” He climbs to his feet and strips them off. He’s got absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and literally no shame so he’s fine with them getting an eyeful. Well, it’s just Jennifer getting the eyeful. After all, she said she wanted to look. He’s just playing on the rules. For once.

 

Cassie is covering her face with her hands but Jennifer keeps her word and stares at his junk for a few moments with unabashed interest.

 

“I was expecting you to be pierced or something and frankly I’m disappointed.” Is her only reaction.

 

He chuckles and slides them back on, noticing that Cassie is peeking ever so slightly between her fingers. He doesn’t call her out on it, instead files that away in the back of his mind for the next time he’s alone. “I like my dick too much to get a needle jammed through it.” Even the mental image that conjures makes him wince.

 

“No pain with your pleasure?” She teases.

 

“Not that kind.”

 

“Oh-ho!” Jennifer laughs.

 

“It’s safe to look, Cas.” He tells Cassie.

 

She drops her hands and smiles. He gives her a grin as her hands go to the hem of his shirt.

 

“Keep it, it looks better on you.”

 

“Thanks.” Cassie nods and stifles a yawn behind her hand.

 

“Uh, Deeks, can I get one of those to sleep in?” Jennifer asks, pulling at Cassie’s sleeve.

 

“Sure, follow me.” He beckons her with a crook of his finger and leads her into his room.

 

He pulls an old Hyena Burger t-shirt from his closet and tosses it to her. However, Jennifer’s paying attention. She’s studying his bed, so it lands on her head.

 

“You know…” Her voice is muffled under the cotton material until she tugs it off, “I never realized how truly big your bed is. Why do you have such a big bed?”

 

“Orgies.” He replies, keeping a straight face as long as he can.

 

“Have lots of those, do you?” She pulls the shirt over her head.

 

“Tons.”

 

“Please tell me you at least changed the sheets.”

 

“I’m not a pig.”

 

“Seriously.”

 

“I promise my sheets are clean.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

He gives in, offering the truth with a shrug. “I like to have space.”

 

She nods. “I get it.”

 

When they return to the living room, he discovers that Cassie has straightened everything up. He likes that she feels so at home at his place. After pulling on his pants, he settles next to her on the couch and he notices the shadows that are emerging under her eyes.

 

“Tired?” He asks.

 

“Early day.” Her voice is subdued and she checks her watch, “Long day.”

 

He glances at the clock on the wall and sees it’s about one-thirty. Where had the time gone? Strip Scrabble had to have something to do with it. “Are we going to be old and go to bed?” He asks.

 

“Nooooooo.” Jennifer complains but ends up yawning, “Fuck.”

 

“I’m good, just get me a blanket.” Cassie’s voice has taken on a sleepy tone.

 

“Nope. No one sleeps on the couch in my apartment. Except for Shawn.” Deacon replies, “My bed is big enough for at least five—“

 

“Tested that out have you?” Jennifer interjects.

 

He ignores that and continues. “So, if you’re both okay with sharing a bed with each other and me, we’ll all fit.”

 

“I’m fine with it.” Jennifer smiles, “Just know, I hog the covers.”

 

Cassie nods. “I’m okay with it.”

 

“Alright.” Deacon stands and lets out a low whistle. Amadeus rolls over from his back onto his paws at the sound, ready and alert. “I’ll take out Amadeus while you two get settled.”

 

“Do you sleep on a certain side?” Cassie asks while he hooks up Amadeus to his walking leash.

 

“Left.” He answers and heads out.

 

 

After Amadeus does his business, they head back inside. Amadeus has picked up the cues that it’s bedtime and heads towards the bedroom. Deacon makes sure the door is locked and everything is secure before he joins the others.

 

Only the light on his side of the bed is on, the light on the lowest setting. Jennifer is curled up the right side of the bed, already asleep. He’s impressed. Cassie is laying in the middle, curled onto her right side. Amadeus is in his bed by the window, watching Deacon as he sheds his pants and crosses the to his dresser. As quiet as he can, he takes out a pair of sweatpants and pulls them on. Rounding the bed, he swallows hard. Cassie’s green eyes watch him through her eyelashes, her lids mostly closed.

 

“Do you want the light?” He asks, keeping his voice near a whisper.

 

She shakes her head and he shuts it off. Lifting the covers, he gets into bed. There’s enough space that none of their bodies are touching. Yet he can feel the warmth of Cassie near him. Fuck. He’s not going to sleep for a while. A long while. He stays on his back, eyes fixed at the ceiling. Trying not to think of the fact she’s near him, wearing only his shirt to sleep in.

 

Her hand reaches out and traces one of his scars. He doesn’t think of them as much as he used to. They’re a part of him he can’t shed, part of what made him. Jennifer and Cassie have never asked, even though they’ve seen him shirtless many times before. Jennifer knows even more than Cassie now, after the knife incident.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He barely catches her voice. He rolls onto his side, facing her. “It’s not your fault. No one but his.” Deacon murmurs.

  
“Your father.” The way she says it, it’s not a question.

 

“Yeah.” He acknowledges, “It’s not something I like talking about. It’s in the past now. Most days, anyways.”

 

Her hand trails its way up to his jaw and she cups it in her palm. A sigh leaves his chest, eyes drifting shut. It feels way too good having her this close, in his bed. It’s one thing when it’s Jennifer or Max, he holds no attraction to them. He loves them dearly but it’s not the same. Not at all. Even when Jennifer cuddles him, it’s just comfort. Affection. Platonic love. It doesn’t feel like electricity lighting his veins, doesn’t make his heart race, doesn’t make his hands ache with need to touch her in return.

 

Cassie’s palm grazes his lips as she moves her hand away, he longs to follow it back to her. Instead, he relaxes back onto his back, tucking his right hand under his head. Somewhere in the night, he falls asleep. This time when he dreams, Cassie has made her way into the apocalypse. They’re a reluctant team, begrudging friends. Of course, he feels himself fall for her there too.

 

Deacon wakes to Amadeus’ tongue licking his hand, where it dangles off the bed. He lifts his hand and places it on Amadeus’ head; a silent reassurance that he’s okay. He pieces together that his heart is pounding. That’s why the pup woke him. He drags in a breath, noticing his chest feels heavier. But it’s an external feeling. Cracking open his eyes, he finds Cassie asleep on his chest, her hair spread out, hiding her face. Jennifer is spooned against Cassie’s back, her breathing even with sleep. There’s at least two thirds of space left now that they’re cuddled up together. How he managed his life before Cassie, before Jennifer, before Amadeus was thin, was work. But since they all came into his life, he’s never felt more loved. And this morning, he’s surrounded by them all. Not a bad way to wake up, really.

 

Not bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thanks to my bestie, Destany_Mitchell, for the use of Scrabble and for the line "I should have lobbied harder for Uno." You are the bestest bestie and you helped make this chapter so fun!


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: brief sexytimes

 

 

 

“It’s just us this weekend. Jennifer isn’t coming.” Cassie announces as he steps through the door of the country house.

 

“Oh?” Deacon sets his bags down on the floor while Amadeus makes his way into the depths of the house, tail wagging joyously, “That seems abrupt.” He toes his shoes off and follows the sound of Cassie’s voice as she replies.

 

“Yeah, it was something Markridge related. Super important.”

 

Ah, Markridge. There are days where he’s able to forget Jennifer is actually the CEO of the biotech company, given she’s the exact opposite of a serious businesswoman when they’re together. Deacon finds Cassie in the kitchen, hugging Amadeus around the neck while his tail thumps noisily against the oven door. He notes that there’s a food and water dish tucked into the corner, ready for the dog. It touches his heart that she went to the effort and he shouldn’t be. That’s Cassie. She rises as Deacon crosses the floor and greets him with a kiss on the cheek as his arm slides around her waist. With the dog between them, she extends up on her tip toe, balancing her weight effortlessly.

 

“So, we’re playing house?” He teases.

 

“Yep.” Her smile is warm. Makes his heart beat canter in his chest.

 

“The house looks amazing.” His eyes take in the remodeled kitchen.

 

“You should see the rest of it.” She takes his hand, pulling him with her, “I’ll give you the tour.”

 

It doesn’t look like the same house at all, from top to bottom. Everything it new and bright and homey. On their way back through the front room, he grabs his duffle and brings it with them upstairs. The guest bedroom houses a bed nearly as big as his own and he ditches his bag on top of the heather grey comforter. Amadeus is already down the opposite side of the hall, nails clicking on the hardwood, investigating the master suite. It’s filled with softer colors, accented with vibrant teal. It’s very her.

 

“What do you think?” Her eyes are sparkling.

 

“I think you did an incredible job planning this out.” He smiles and picks up a picture frame from her dresser. There’s a picture of them and Jennifer, from one of the weekends she whisked them off to Vegas. They’re all smooshed together, grinning widely. It’s a great picture, “I eat my initial words.”

 

That smug smile of hers quirks her lips. “You better.”

 

He sets the frame down. “I promise to never doubt you again.”

 

There’s a small creak as Amadeus noses open the master bathroom door. Deacon moves to the door and leans on the frame, watching as his lab climbs in the spacious garden tub and makes himself comfortable. Cassie peers around Deacon.

 

“You know, I bought a bed for him too.” She groused, her smile taking any actual grumble out of the words.

 

“He’s an odd duck.” Deacon agrees, “He’ll follow us if we go back downstairs.” A snore drifts up from the bottom of the tub, “Eventually.”

 

Cassie laughs and they go downstairs. In the living room, there’s an expansive collection of books on shelves. Some games are tucked under the coffee table. There’s Catan, Clue, Cards Against Humanity, Taboo, and Scrabble. Just the sight of Scrabble makes a smile form on his lips. Without Jennifer, he doubts a game would escalate into strip territory but it will always be one of his favorite games from that day on. Even though he lost.

 

Cassie settles down on the couch and he joins her. They pass the time in easy quiet. She reads some sort of medical journal, dark rimmed glasses perched on her nose, while he finds something lighter. The book is some mass market paperback, years old and some sort of romance but he figures what the fuck? Why not? He’s not looking for something to suck him in. She’s certainly not going to judge him. It’s on her shelf, after all. He stretches along the length of the couch, reclining back until he’s nearly in her lap.

 

“May I?” He asks.

 

She looks up from the text and gives him a small smile. She grabs a small pillow from behind her and places it on her legs and he rests his head on top. They read until the sun begins to dip on the horizon and the light in the room shifts. When he finishes the last line, he sits up, tossing the paperback on the coffee table. It lands with a solid _thunk_ that makes Cassie look over at him in amusement.

 

“Enjoyed  _Scorched Touch_ , did you?” She asks.

 

“It was well written and dirty as hell.” He replies. He’s honestly had fantasies less lewd than the sex acts in that book, “What kind of smut are you into?”

 

Her laughter rings brightly. “Jennifer bought that for me.”

 

“Sureee.” He drawls. He does believe her but can’t resist needling her.

 

Closing her thick hardcover book, she put it on the small table besides her before eyeing the book he had discarded.

 

“Dirty as hell, huh?” She asked, picking it up and studying the paperback, “This book?”

 

“You better believe it.”

 

She grins at him. “Give you ideas?”

 

He angles his body so their knees slightly brush. He leans in close. “I don’t need any.” He informs her, keeping his voice low.

  
Her cheeks flush just so and he grins. Part of him wants to keep going, see if he can make her blush more. Keep up the dance they’ve been choreographing. It’s a thin line between friends and something beyond that. They’ve been toeing it, moving closer and closer to the not just friends area. That part, it’s getting harder to ignore but not impossible to tune out. She still has his heart and he can’t bear to lose her.

 

“So, dinner?” He asks, changing the topic, climbing to his feet and stretching.

 

“Dinner.” She agrees.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He can feel a nervous energy coming from Cassie as she walks back into the room. Her handgun is still clutched in her palm.

 

“We’re still pinned. Whitley radioed back. He won’t be able to get to us until morning.” She replies, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask that covers her face. She tucks her gun into the holster on her thigh.

 

He’s leaning against an ancient yet sturdy desk in the cleanest room of the warehouse they’re trapped in. He nods simply at the news; he’s not surprised. He keeps his focus on sharpening his hunting knife, the repetition is comforting to him. Knowing it’s as sharp as can be, capable as killing as many as he can doesn’t hurt either. She draws his attention back to her as she shuts the door behind her and throws the lock. Then she lifts her mask and adrenaline spikes through him. His hands still and he sets the whetstone and blade down on the desk.

 

“Cassie, what are you—“

 

He doesn’t get to finish the question. Instead her mouth covers his and her body molds against him. He’s caught off guard at first but then remembers how to move his lips, deepening the kiss. Fuck. His grip her waist, anchoring her. He doesn’t know what’s come over her and as much as it kills him, he breaks the kiss.

 

“Are you sure?” He needs to know, he has to know. He may be a lot of things but he would never cross that line; he needs to know she wants this, wants him.

 

She nods and steps back, peeling off the bulletproof vest that he strapped to her before they left. It’s quickly followed by her shirt, her bra. He’s mesmerized by the show as she continues stripping until she’s completely naked.

 

“This is the part where you get naked.” She teases, prompting him out of his reverie.

 

“As m’lady asks.” He replies and strips.

 

She’s seen him shirtless before so she knows his scars. They get a slow glance as she steps forward. Her hands come to rest on his chest, slide up around his neck. Her breasts are pressed against his chest and a quiet groan gets caught in his throat. Her skin is so soft, so warm. Her mouth finds his again and he gets lost in the sensation of her. Then she presses him back and he takes the hint, hoisting himself onto the desktop. Deacon pulls her up with him and she straddles his hips.

 

When she sinks down onto his cock, it makes him curse. He’s never had a feeling like this. Pleasure, sure. This is something else. This is bliss. Cassie rides him, nice and slow. She’s beautiful above him, like a fucking angel or something. He props himself up on his elbow, his other hand wrapping around the back of her neck, pulling her closer. His lips nip at her pulse, down to her collar bone, captures her nipple. She makes the most amazing sounds: breathy moans, little mewls; the way his name falls from her lips.

 

“Deacon.” Its starts soft, sweet.

 

Then it gets louder. Tinged with urgency.

 

“Deacon! _Deacon!”_

 

His eyes snap open and Cassie’s above him. Only she’s not naked and riding him. They’re not in the apocalypse. They’re in the country house and the air around them is startlingly cold. He can feel it seeping through the blanket. The boner he had thanks that that sweet, sweet dream is quickly softening. Being ripped from the dream world is a tad disorienting and he tries to focus.

 

“What? What is it?” He blinks at her, taking in her loose hair, the robe that’s pulled around the night gown he saw her in earlier.

 

“The heater stopped working and it’s colder than the weather report said.” Her teeth are chattering, the soft clicking catching his ear.

  
“Christ, get in here.” He lifts the blanket and the cold air assaults his legs, his chest as she accepts his offer and crawls in beside him.

 

There’s some clumsy wiggling around until they’re comfortable, snuggled close. Her head is tucked under his chin, her arm wrapped around his chest. Despite her fluffy robe, she’s still shivering. He rubs his jaw against her hair.

 

“Are you okay?” Her voice is quiet, “Your heart is pounding.”

 

“Yeah.” He answers, “You woke me from an…intense dream.”

 

“Intense?” She angles her face so they’re looking eye to eye, “A nightmare?”

 

“Not quite…part of it was…”

 

“Was?”

 

“Hot.” He admits.

 

“Oh?” Cassie lets out a little laugh, “Did the book inspire you?”

 

“No. Not quite.”

 

“Tell me about it?”

 

He arches a brow. “Cassie…”

 

“What? We can look at erotic art together yet you get tongue tied over a dream?”

 

“You were in the dream.”

 

“Oh.” It’s a soft sound and he swears she presses herself closer, “You can tell me…I won’t mind.”

 

“You were naked, riding my cock like you couldn’t get enough.” He studies her face, “Not much to really get into.”

 

She makes another soft, wonderful noise and the warmth between their bodies rises. Her finger tips move along his chest, tracing scars and making her own patterns. Then she sits up, pushing the robe from her shoulders.

 

“Cassie?”

 

“I’m hot.” Her voice is a whisper and then she’s straddling him.

 

He swallows thickly. “Cassie.” He says her name again.

 

She rolls her hips and he groans, his cock hardening swiftly. He couldn’t hide his reaction to her if he wanted to. Cassie smiles down at him with that smug smile that drives him crazy and rolls her hips against, running her core against the length of his shaft.

 

“Fuck!” He growls, grabbing her hips. The night gown she’s wearing is thin, made of silk. It’s incredibly soft in his palms. He shoves it up just enough that he can feel the skin beneath it. It’s just as soft as the fucking silk. Christ.

 

“Do you want me to stop?” She asks and there’s some urgency making her words almost breathless.

 

“Not yet.” He murmurs.

 

Cassie begins to rock, rutting against him. The barriers of clothing between them offer a torturous friction. She makes almost a desperate noise and tugs her nightgown over her head, tossing it to the floor. His dream had been uncannily accurate regarding the size of her breasts, the shape of them. The way they move as she writhes. Like in the dream, he rises up on his elbow, bringing his face closer to her chest. But he doesn’t move to touch her. He doesn’t know what this is. What they’re doing. Doesn’t know how far to take it. If they cross the line and actually fuck…

 

“Deacon.” Cassie’s voice is a gentle command, pulling him out of his head, saving him from overthinking more, “Touch me.”

 

He hesitates. Just for a second. Then he buries his face into her neck, slides his hand from her belly button up to her breast, cupping it in his palm. Her hips buck and she sighs, her head falling back. He presses a kiss to the side of her throat as his fingertips work her nipple into a hard peak.  Deacon trails more kisses down her chest, until he finds the underside of her breast. He flicks out his tongue, licking at the sensitive skin. Cassie mewls quietly.

 

Dragging in a ragged breath, his hand moves down from her breast to the waistband of her panties. He runs a fingertip along the edge. She whimpers and pushes his hand down lower as her hips pause, centering his thumb on her clit. He rubs it slow, running the pad of his thumb in a circle. She moans and he does it again. When he stops, Cassie makes a soft, disgruntled noise.

 

“What are we doing, Cassie?” He hates himself for even asking the question but there’s too much on the line not to.

 

Her brows knit and she pouts. Actually pouts at him. “You’re about to make me come! Don’t stop! Please! Deacon, please.”

 

The way she begs makes his cock throb. He aches to be inside of her but for now, he’ll settle for this. He rubs her clit with a little more pressure, a little more speed and she cries out. He can feel the wetness through his boxers and the ache grows into something hungrier. Deacon wraps an arm around her waist and rolls her beneath him. There’s a smile on her lips that’s smug, satisfaction in her eyes. Her hand moves between them, sliding into her panties. When she raises her hand to his lips, they’re slick with her come. He sucks each finger that she offers until they’re clean.

 

Just a taste of her isn’t enough. He wants more. Wants to bury his face between her thighs and lick her until she comes again. Then wants to bury his cock inside of her, feel her walls around him. He squeezes his eyes shut. Focus. He has to focus.

 

“Cassie, is this…what are we doing? I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“Lose me? Deacon, what are you talking about?” Her brows furrow, “We’re having fun. Nothing to worry about.”

 

And yet, his heart is pounding, fear is overtaking him. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What we have. If we fuck, start dating, and things go bad? I can’t lose you in my life because I couldn’t think beyond my dick.”

 

“Deacon, why would you think you would lose me?” Her hands cup his face.

 

He can’t explain it. It’s a feeling so deep in his gut, it’s mistakes he’s made in relationships past. They tie his tongue and he just shakes his head.

 

“Come here.” Cassie guides his head down to her chest and he lets his body relax down as well.

 

He listens to the steady rhythm of her heart beat and it soothes him. She doesn’t seem to mind his weight on her.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She murmurs, dropping a kiss to his forehead.

 

He believes her but he still can’t shake the feeling that lingers.

 

“I know how to kill a mood, don’t I?” He mutters after a few moments of silence.

 

She chuckles. “You’re actually thinking rationally. I was not.” Her lips touch his forehead again, “Sleep, Deacon. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

 

He sleeps, though restlessly.

 

He’s back in that apocalyptic world only everything is moving in fast-forward. When he wakes, he’s shook with terrible images; including being tortured by Nazis.

 

Sometime in the night, they had shifted positions and Cassie was now curled up into his side. She was still asleep. He carefully slides out of bed, not to disturb her. While he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Amadeus climbs into the spot he left behind and promptly goes to sleep. The house is still cold so he makes his way down to the basement to see if there’s anything he can do to fix the heat situation.

 

After tinkering around for an hour, Deacon manages to get it working again and the house loses its frigid bite. Back upstairs in the kitchen, the clock on the stove tells him it’s nearly five in the morning. He’s not going to go back to sleep anytime soon so he brews a pot of coffee. By the time he’s on his third cup, Cassie comes downstairs. Her nightgown is back on but she’s sans robe. Her blond hair is all wavy from sleep and she offers him a sleepy smile.

 

“I was wondering where you were.” She murmurs, stealing his coffee mug, “I missed you.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gets up and pours himself another cup, “So I fixed the heat. Made some coffee.”

 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” She looks at him from over the rim of her mug.

 

He rakes his hand through his hair and leans against the counter. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

 

“Try me.” She offers him a smile.

 

Well, here goes nothing. “I’ve been having these dreams for a while. They feel so real. Like I’ve lived this whole other life in an apocalypse.”

 

Her spine straightens and her expression is suddenly serious. “What do you remember?”

 

Remember. The word sticks with him; she probably misspoke. She just woke up, after all. But he tells her everything he’s dreamed. By the end, he expects her to shake it off. Expects her to laugh or something. Instead, she’s as serious as he’s ever seen. Maybe she’s analyzing something in that doctor brain of hers, potentially diagnosing him with a psychosis. Amadeus ambles into the room and offers a canine yawn.

 

“Come on, Amadeus.” He tells the dog, “Outside.”

 

It’s their usual routine, one that they’re both used to. Deacon leaves Cassie to her contemplation, leads Amadeus to the back door and lets him out, watching from the back deck as he does his business. Amadeus stretches for a good five minutes before he wanders back up, tail wagging. He snuffles at Deacon’s leg and Deacon smiles, affectionately petting the top of his head. They head inside to find Cassie still staring into the depths of her coffee. The quiet contemplation is making him uneasy. To take his mind off of it, he goes to the fridge and pulls out some eggs. He pulls a small fry pan from the metal dish drying rack. Seeing as she made dinner, he could at least make some breakfast and kill two birds with one stone.

 

Deacon puts the flame on low and adds butter to the pan, watching it melt until he coats the entire bottom. He cracks two eggs in and they make a soft sizzling sound under the heat.

 

“What if I told you it was all real?” Her voice is so quiet he barely hears the words.

 

“Say that again?”

 

“What if I told you it was all real?” Cassie repeats.

 

He shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Cassie, please don’t even humor—“

 

“ _Good morning, bright eyes._ ” She lifts her head and their eyes meet, “That was the first thing you said to me.”

 

Those four words send him back to that room with Cassie and Katarina Jones, getting ready to bring them to The Messengers. Back when he knew nothing of the war the pair had been fighting.

 

“I didn’t…I didn’t tell you that.” Deacon looks down at the eggs cooking and abandons the thought of eating. He quickly turns the knob and kills the fire under the pan, moving the skillet to the backburner. He turns his attention on her. He had kept the events vague, not mentioning too many details but she knew. She _knew,_ “How…How do you know what I said?”

 

Deacon sits down heavily at the table across from her. Her hand reaches to his, settles on top. Her hand is warm, a steady rock.

 

“Because I remember that life too, Deacon.” She replies quietly, “It was real. It happened…”

 

He swallows hard, trying to find the words. His heart pounds in his chest. Christ, she has to be playing with him. But that doesn’t make sense either. There’s no way she could have known what he said unless she was there too. “That world was real? That life? If it hadn’t escaped your attention but I was a sociopath! Sure, I did good things. But I did bad things too. I…”

 

“Was real. Was a hero.” Cassie interrupts, “We all were gray in that world. We did things. Horrible things. For the sake of saving the world.”

 

Amadeus finds him, scratches at his leg. Deacon pulls his hand from under Cassie’s and rests his hand on Amadeus’ head. It roots him here, in this moment. “If it was real…then is this friendship a lie? Everything we’ve done for the past six months?” A humorless chuckle leaves his throat but he feels like he’s losing it a bit, “Here I was, worried about losing you if I had sex with you last night and turns out we’ve been down that path before…and you didn’t love me then. You made damn sure I knew it.” His heartbeat spikes as his words actually hit him, panic edging into his lungs. He can’t sit still and shoots to his feet, the chair making a soft noise in protest as it moves across the floor. “Why did you find me Cas? Because Cole is gone? Were you trying to chase a memory of the Scav King to comfort yourself?”

 

“Deacon, no.” She’s on her feet, closing the distance between them, her beautiful green eyes shimmering with tears, “I missed _you_.”

 

“Missed me?” He murmured. How she could have missed that version of him is near unfathomable. “Then you found _this_ me, found a broken man instead of a sociopath. Not much of a trade up there, Cas.”

 

She shakes her head fervently. “I found a good man. A man with demons he’s fought hard to overcome. I found a friend that chased away my loneliness with unending kindness and love. I found a friendship that transcended time itself.”

 

He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the maelstrom inside of him that’s threatening break him. “I think I need to go home. I need to process this.” It’s too much, too much to deal with in this house. It’s overshadowing all the good memories right now. When he opens his eyes, he finds tears on her cheeks.

 

“Deacon, please.” Her voice cracks and her eyes are pleading, “Please stay with me.”

 

He draws her against him, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I love you, Cassandra. I loved you then. I love you now. I think I’m always going to; that that’s my true fate. Even if you never love me in return.”

 

She lets out a sob. “But I do love you, Deacon.” Her words are muffled into his shirt front, “I love you.”

 

“Not like I love you.” He murmurs, trying to keep defeat out of his voice.

 

Cassie lifts her head and meets his eyes. They’re red rimmed and a little bloodshot but they’re serious. “I do, Deacon. I’ve been falling for you since we met again. Not because of what we were once, not because who we were but because of _you_. How could I not?”

 

He rests his forehead against hers. “Christ, Cas. Two world wrecking bombs in less than five minutes. Anything else you’d like to shatter for me?”

 

Cassie shakes her head. “I wish I had known you were remembering sooner. Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“I thought they were just dreams…vivid dreams.” He lifts his head, studying her face, “Who else remembers?”

 

“Jennifer. Jones. Hannah. Eliot. They’re the only ones I’ve interacted with.”

 

He nods. Of course, Jennifer would know, that’s the least surprising thing he’s heard today. “I don’t know if Max remembers. Or Shawn.” Shawn had been dead for three years before Cole and Ramse had joined the West VII. He wouldn’t know any of them. Max had died before Cassie came so she wouldn’t have known her. She would recognize Jennifer, maybe.

 

“I only met Max after we took Titan.” Cassie says softly, “It was brief.”

 

“You took Titan?” He blinks, “I don’t remember that. Not yet, anyways. It comes in pieces.”

 

There’s a look in her eyes. New tears that fill her eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

 

He closes his eyes and focuses on the dream. Well, not dream, but memory leaking through. “After Germany. After our last drink together at the Emerson. I took Jones to Olivia. That’s what woke me this morning.”

 

The tears fall and she nods, doesn’t say anything.

 

“What happens after Cassie?” He asks, though, deep down, he thinks he knows. The look on her face can only be described as devastated.

 

“Let it come to you naturally.” She answers softly, “I worry what would happen if I made it come through. There’s a reason it’s been coming to you in your dreams and not while you’re awake.”

 

“Worried it could give me a break down?” He says it lightly.

 

Cassie’s eyes are serious. “Yes.”

 

Well, he can’t say he doesn’t appreciate her thoughtfulness. Deacon drops a kiss to her forehead. “Why are we remembering?”  


“I wish I knew.” She murmurs, “I talked to Jennifer and she didn’t have an answer either.”

 

“Maybe it’s Time gifting us with the family we built again.” He reaches for optimism because if he doesn’t, he knows darkness will swamp him. Suffocate him. He’s fought against it his entire life; he won’t let it take him now.

 

“I like to think that as well.” She sighs quietly.

 

He presses his lips to her forehead again. “I’m sorry that Cole isn’t here.”

 

Her arms slide around him but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. He knows her, knows her heart still grieves for him. He gives her some time.

 

“I’m glad you found me.” He murmurs after a while.

 

She smiles. “Me too.”

 

“We saved the world.”

 

“We did.”

 

“And our reward is this life…” For all the bad, there’s been some good. So much more of it since she came into his life. Well, back to it.

 

“Yes.”

 

He reaches up to her face, fingertips tilting her chin up. “You’ve made this life worth it.”

 

Cassie smiles and it steals his breath. It’s beautiful, warm. Her eyes are filled with that warm, with love. He cups her jaw, thumb stroking along her soft skin. His mouth finds hers. The kiss sends lightening through him. They did more intimate things last night but this? This ignites a fire in him that destroys the doubts that overwhelmed him last night. She loves him. Truly loves him. He knows that know and it gives him peace. Her lips move under his and her arms hold tighter to him. When they break, he lifts her up into his arms.

 

“Deacon.” She breaths his name, chest heaving.

 

“Want to pick up where we left off last night?”

 

There’s an eagerness to her eyes. “Please.”

 

He chuckles and kisses her again, deepening it. He hadn’t kissed her last night and now he can’t get enough. Deacon carries her through the house and ascends the stairs. When they reach the top, the sound of the doorbell stops him.

 

“Were you expecting anyone?” He asks.

 

“Not until Monday.” She answers, her body is stiff in his arms.

 

Amadeus starts barking. It’s his warning bark. It drives him into action. Deacon sets her down and goes into the guest room, gets his hunting knife out of his bag. Cassie looks at it with a wry stare.

 

“Somethings never change, do they?”

 

“Nope.” He replies and moves back downstairs.

 

The doorbell chimes again. He gently nudges Amadeus out of the way and wrenches it open only to come face to face with James Cole. He feels Cassie at his back, feels her hand grip his shirt. He looks at her and her eyes are so very wide.

 

“Cole?” Her voice is thick.

 

Turns out, his world could be knocked off its axis again. But this time, Deacon isn’t sure there's a way to fix it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The romance novel isn't a real book, the title is just something I made up. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated


	7. Break My Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: mentions of blood, death, murder

 

 

Amadeus’ bark comes to a stop and he plows past Cole’s legs as Jennifer climbs onto the porch, knocking into the other man’s knees with enough force to make him take a step back. Deacon watches Jennifer greet Amadeus with enthusiastic glee before he fixes his gaze on Cole. The other man looks unchanged. Well, that’s not completely true. He looks tired, his shoulders a little less burdened with the weight of the world. There’s only a tiny bit of suspicion in his eyes at Deacon’s presence. That’s fine. Deacon isn’t exactly thrilled to see him either. Not when his timing was so fucking terrible.

 

Deacon offers him a small, tight smile, shoving down his annoyance.

 

“You really are Time Jesus.” He tells Cole, shaking his head, “Resurrection and all.”

 

Cole’s expression softens and he laughs. “Christ, it’s good to see you.”

 

“I bet it’s even better to see her.” Deacon replies, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, where Cassie is still rooted. Her eyes are still so damn wide and she lost all the color he had made bloom in her cheeks. “I think she’s in shock.”

 

“Looks like.” Cole’s smile is gentle. His brown eyes flick from Cassie back to Deacon. The look in those Otter Eyes aren’t transparent to him. There was a time Deacon could practically read his thoughts just by looking at him. Right now, Cole is studying him and Cassie. Deacon doesn’t feel the least bit guilty but he clears his throat.

 

“Well, I’ll leave you two…” Deacon turns and leaves Cassie on her own. He doesn’t need to see what happens next. He has a pretty good idea of what’s coming. He climbs the stairs two at a time, going to the guest room and collapsing on the edge of the bed. The sheets are still a mess from last night and he swallows hard. Just hours ago, Cassie was on top of him, coming. When he closes his eyes, he can still see her mostly naked body.   

 

Cole is still Time Jesus and a cock block. Some things never change.

 

But nothing is the same. Not anymore. Deacon doesn’t know where this leaves him. What was pretty much perfection just moments ago was threatening to burn to ashes at his feet.  Tossing his knife on the nightstand, he scrubs his face with his hands. His chest feels hollow and his stomach is in knots. Maybe he will lose Cassie after all. The knowledge rips his heart and he shoves the pain down deep. He’ll deal with it later. Now, he has to get through the unexpected reunion. Blowing out a breath, he gets up, hastily making the bed, smoothing the comforter, erasing any telltale sign that something happened last night.

 

Too bad he can’t erase the memory of it as easy. Not that he wants to but he’s certainly about to get his heart ripped out and that memory will be all he is left with. Fuck. He grabs his duffle and digs through it, finding the flask he stashed there. It was a birthday gift from Shawn, years ago. The design engraved in the steel turned out to be the prototype of the logo for their bar. He traces the clovers with his thumb for a moment before he drops it onto the comforter. Deacon digs out his meds and pours them into his palm. After popping them into his mouth, he unscrews the cap of his flask and takes a long drink, letting the bourbon burn his throat.  

 

Deacon recaps the flask and tosses it into the bag, zipping it shut. Cassie had begged him to stay but he doesn’t see that happening now. Her one true love has returned. Whatever they were about to become can’t compete. He rejoins the others downstairs. Cassie is sitting next to Cole on the couch but she’s not making any move to be closer. Jennifer is petting Amadeus from her seat in one of the armchairs. He collapses into the other and Amadeus comes to him immediately. Bless this dog and his ability to sense when Deacon needs him most. He rests his blocky head on Deacon’s thigh and stares up at him. Deacon pets his head, finding comfort the feeling of his soft, warm fur.

 

“You remember?” Jennifer speaks first. She sounds happy. That potentially makes her the only one in the room.

 

Deacon nods. “Yeah. Cassie told me this morning that the dreams I’ve been having are actually memories slipping through.” He sighs, “Apparently, I don’t remember everything just yet.”

 

“He remembers just after Germany.” Cassie fills in, her voice quiet.

 

Those memories are distant at the moment; he can’t focus on them. His thoughts drift to closer events. The way Cassie’s voice sounds when she begs him to get her off.

 

“Did we interrupt something?” Cole asks pulling him from his reflection, “There’s a weird energy between you two.”

 

Deacon looks to Cassie and her eyes are unreadable. No matter what life he lives, he’s still going to rely on being as honest as possible. Even if it burns him.

 

“You did.” He replies simply, not breaking eye contact, “We were just about to go upstairs and fuck.”

 

Jennifer makes a small choking sound. “I, uh, I’m going to go in the kitchen and give you guys a minute to talk.”

 

She makes a swift exit but Deacon keeps his eyes on Cole, on Cassie, who looks like she may cry.

 

“Jesus, is that all?” Cole shakes his head, angles his body towards Cassie, “Did you think you weren’t supposed to live your life? You weren’t even supposed to remember me. I wasn’t supposed to exist! Why would I be mad that you found love again?”

 

Deacon had expected anger. But this? This leaves him honestly flabbergasted.

 

“You’re not upset?” Cassie’s voice is tight, her brows drawn down in confusion.

 

“No. I’m not.” Cole sighs, wrap an arm around her shoulder and drops a kiss to her forehead. Cassie’s eyes drift shut and her body relaxes. The sight doesn’t stir the jealousy Deacon expected to feel. Instead he feels…resigned. He wonders if he’s disassociating to save himself from the pain that’s certainly coming.

 

Cole’s voice continues, soft and soothing. “We’ve been through enough hell. All of us. I’m not making this a fight. We can talk things out, I’m sure.” His eyes meet Deacon’s.

 

Deacon appreciates the thought, the diplomacy the other man is taking. He didn’t want to be in a fist fight right now. “When the hell did you get so wise?”

 

Cole just grins and offers a shrug.

 

Jennifer steps back into the room noisily munching on a piece of toast. “Look at you two handling things like grown ups. It’s about time.”

 

Deacon fixes his gaze on her. “Did you know he was coming back, Peaches?” He’s trying to keep his voice even as his heart rate spikes. Amadeus shifts restlessly, pawing at his leg, licks at his fingers. Deacon scratches his ears until he settles down.

 

Those dark eyes of her go wide and she shakes her head. “Not until yesterday…”

 

“This was your last minute business.” Cassie’s voice is light. She sounds a bit dazed.

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Jennifer polishes off the toast, “I had to go fetch him from the Keys. I didn’t have much notice.”

 

“Nothing to apologize for then.” Deacon tells her and she beams, looking relieved. She plops into his lap, settling down on his other leg and hugs him around the neck.

 

His arms slide around her automatically but he’s not really feeling the emotion behind it. He’s not mad at her or anything. The hollow feeling in chest is beginning to overwhelm everything else and he feels like his world is about to crumble. Amadeus gets up and ambles over to Cole. Cole smiles and offers his hand.

 

“Nice doggy.” He says softly.

 

“Amadeus.” Deacon murmurs.

 

Cole smiles as Amadeus licks his hand. “Nice name.”

 

“He’s a good dog.” Deacon replies absently.

 

Christ, this situation is fucking dragging out. The urge to leave rushes through his veins and he’s on his feet before he realizes it, taking Jennifer along with him. A tiny shriek leaves her. He mutters a quick apology and deposits her back on to the chair carefully. All eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t give a shit, “I think I should go.”

 

“You promised you would stay.” Cassie says softly.

 

“That’s before Time Jesus came back, sweetheart.” He meets her eyes and fuck if his heart doesn’t feel like it’s being ripped to shreds, “I’m sure you two would like some time to talk…I don’t need to be around for that.”

 

Cole’s blue eyes catch his. “We need to talk. I meant all three of us. I’m not doing things half assed. Not when this life is ours. All of ours. You’re part of this conversation, not just a piece of it.”

 

Jennifer rises, clearing her throat with a soft _ahem_. “I, however, don’t need to be here for it.” She catches Deacon in another hug. Her lithe frame practically barrels into him, “Call me later if you need anything.” She says under her breath.

 

“We’ll see.” Deacon can’t promise anything right now. Not to her. Not to anyone.

 

Deacon moves into the kitchen as Jennifer say her good byes to the others. He opens up the liquor cabinet and pours himself a coffee mug full of bourbon. He’s taking a drink when he feels Cassie against his back, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades. Swallowing, he sets the mug down and turns. The bourbon is starting to work, accelerated by his meds; it’s taking the edge off the severity of the emotions warring inside. Cole is leaning against the doorway, watching them.

 

“I need you.” She whispers against his chest.

 

“No, you don’t.” Deacon sighs and concentrates on keeping his voice light, “Your one true love has returned. You don’t need me.”

 

“We’ve been through this. I need you.” Her tone is insistent. It fucking spears his heart.

 

“Cassandra.” He pauses and tries to take another breath. It’s harder than it was a second ago, “It’s okay.” The minute the words come off his tongue, he hates them. Because they’re a lie. It’ll never be okay.

 

“Why does Cassie have to choose?” Cole’s voice cuts in.

 

Deacon blinks in surprise. “Are you suggesting we both be with her?”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I know you’ve had open relationships in the past, Deacon. You were in one when I joined the West VII. You’re no stranger to that kind of relationship.” Cole shrugs, “If it can solve this dilemma, why not give it a try?”

 

He’s also been polyamorous in this life too. It’s been a while though. A long while. Cassie’s staring up at him, her brows furrowed. He doesn’t know if it’s a good expression or bad.

 

“Be with you both?” Cassie murmured.

 

“Is that something you would be comfortable with?” Deacon asks.

 

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never been in a relationship like that before.”

 

“It doesn’t hurt to try.” Cole tells her.

 

She looks skeptical. “What would it entail?”

 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Deacon answers, “Just like any other relationship. We define what we want, where we see it going. It’s what we make it.”

 

Her eyes dart between the two of them. “That won’t be a problem for you two?”

 

Deacon looks at Cole, studies him. He knew Cole once. The Cole before him now isn’t that Cole; the one that was wild and bordering on feral until the mission against Olivia and her army. This one is what was born of that battle, carries the weight of war. Then again, he’s not the same Deacon either. They’re both new. Yet their lives are still entwined, still bound by their shared love of Cassandra Railly.

 

“I don’t mind sharing.” Deacon offers a small smile and a shrug. He’ll do anything he can to not lose her. This isn’t a bad idea. It could work.

 

“I can’t promise I won’t get jealous from time to time.” Cole adds, “You two have built something together that I’m not a part of. I’m the one that has to fit into your lives.”

 

Your lives. Not just hers, but his. Something stirs in Deacon’s chest. He tries not to focus on it too much; it has all the feelings of hope and he can’t, he won’t trust in it blindly. Not when things are delicate. Because jealousy has a tendency to grow, twist, turn into something ugly; can spur into destruction.

 

“You’ll fit.” Cassie promises.

 

“You’re okay with that? Dating us?” Deacon asks.

 

She nods. “I’m just not sure how we start.”

 

“We start by getting to know each other again.” Cole suggests, “The rest will come.”

 

“I’ll make some breakfast.” Deacon offers, “Might as well eat while we talk.”

 

He grabs the pan he abandoned earlier and dumps the eggs into the trash. After cleaning and drying it, he settles it on the burner. While he whisks some eggs in a bowl, he turns to Cassie and Cole, who are watching him from the table.

 

“So, tell me about your life, Deacon.” Cole props his elbows on the table, “I’m guessing it’s completely different now.”

 

“Started out the same, really. Worse in some ways than my old life.” Deacon stops whisking for a moment. Now’s not the time to get into that; the violence that left its scars. He forges on instead choosing the brighter side, “But I opened up a bar with my brother, made that dream a reality. It’s successful, have loyal regulars. Max is still in my life, one of my best friends, actually. She works with me and Shawn at the bar. Jennifer has been in my life for two years and Cassie came along a few months ago. They’ve made my life better. Adopted Amadeus about a month ago. Couldn’t imagine my life without him now.”

 

Amadeus yawns from under the table and he chuckles, adding the eggs to pans to cook slowly. Deacon finds shredded cheese in the fridge and sprinkles it over the top.

 

“Sounds like you’re happy.”

 

“I am.” He stirs the eggs a little as they begin to solidify, “I ended up meeting Jones a few months back. I didn’t know who she was at the time though. Looking back, she absolutely knew who I was.”

 

Cassie’s voice is soft. “You didn’t tell me that.”

 

He doesn’t look up from the pan. “I was having a rough night. She shared a cigarette with me. I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

 

“Am I missing something?” Cole asks. His tone is still careful.

 

The topic of his mental disorders would come up sooner or later so Deacon plows through, biting back a sigh. “I have anxiety. PTSD. I have good days, I have bad days.” Deacon shrugs, “Sometimes the bad days last longer than the good.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I’ll tell you one day.” Deacon promises, “I’m not withholding to be a jackass. It’s not something I talk about, nor pleasant breakfast conversation.”

 

When the eggs are perfectly soft and cooked through and the cheese is nice and melty, he divides it onto three plates. Deacon hands Cassie and Cole theirs first before he grabs his along with some forks. He settles into his chair and passes out the forks.

 

“One more thing. Amadeus may give you the sweetest, most pathetic begging face but no feeding him under the table.” Deacon points his fork at Cole before digging in. Cassie knows all the rules already.

 

Cole laughs quietly. His expression says _guilty_. “I would have fed him.”

 

Deacon smiles. “I know you would.”

 

Calm settles between the three of them and it’s comfortable. Deacon can hardly believe the ease of it. Try as he might fight against it, a feeling of hope finds roots in his heart, entwining in his chest.

 

“What do we do regarding affection?” Cassie asks as she places her dish in the sink with a soft clatter, “Are we free to be affectionate around each other? To hug? To cuddle? To kiss?”

 

“You two do much kissing?” Cole’s voice is low, halfway teasing.

 

“Today was the first time I kissed her on the lips but everywhere else on the face has been fair game for some time.” Deacon answers.

 

“So, you two haven’t had sex before?” Cole sounds surprised.

 

Deacon is almost offended. His eyes move to Cassie and she bites her bottom lip. “We fooled around last night a little bit. But that was the first time we did anything like that.”

 

“Fooled around?”

 

Deacon sets his fork down, swallowing the mouthful of eggs. They go down a bit thick and he clears his throat. “Do you really want to hear the details? What good would it do you?”

 

Cole shrugs and stabs his eggs. “Maybe I want to know for the sake of being transparent?”

 

“Or maybe you’re a bit of a perv?” Deacon shoots back with a smile.

 

Cole grins and polishes off the remaining food on his plate. But he doesn’t answer Deacon’s question. Yep, Time Jesus is a dirty perv. Deacon is tempted to give him all the details, as explicitly as a possible. See how the other man handles it. With a soft sigh, he decides to be the bigger man and not poke that soft spot yet. It would do none of them any good to implode before they’ve even begun.

 

“I plan on not changing anything.” Deacon continues, “I’m going to keep acting the same way I have been. Doing the same things I’ve been. With one exception.”

 

“That being?” Cassie asks.

 

“If you still want to have sex, I am still ready to cross that line.” He informs her, “Nothing has changed here. The only thing that’s changed is you’ll be doing the same things with Cole. And I am okay with it. I know you love him. I know you love me. I want you to have all the love you desire. I don’t want to rip your heart to pieces. There’s nothing wrong with being in love with us both.”

 

“There’s not?” She looks unsure.

 

Deacon stands and crosses the room to her. He tilts her chin with a gentle nudge of his fingers until her eyes meet his. “Absolutely nothing wrong with it.”

 

He crashes his lips down onto hers and her hand curls around the back of his neck as she kisses him back. There’s the soft sound of footsteps behind him and Deacon breaks the kiss reluctantly. His eyes drift to Cole, who is watching them with serious eyes. Cassie licks her lips and Deacon watches Cole’s eyes follow the movement. Then he reaches for her, angling her body towards his. Their kiss is consuming and deep and Deacon is riveted, he couldn’t look away if he wanted. Cassie’s hand winds into the front of Deacon’s t-shirt and holds tight.

 

Blood is pounding in his ears and he fights the urge to lean over and kiss along the side of her neck. He shoves the urge down; the last time he was in a situation like this, it ended in a threesome. He doesn’t know if she’s ready for that. Nor if she wants it. Or Cole for that matter. He’ll broach that topic later. But they’ve passed this hurdle without breaking into a fist fight so he considers that a feat onto itself.

 

When they break apart, they’re both breathing heavy and looking at him out of the corner of their eyes. It’s obvious to him that they’re worked up and he understands it. He is too but it’s not as overwhelming for him. “Christ, you two, go fuck.” He encourages, “I’ll stay the weekend while we work this out, okay? I’ll go take Amadeus for a walk…a long one.”

 

Amadeus emerges from under the table. Deacon’s not sure if it’s because he said his name or the word walk. Either way, the pup’s tail is wagging and he look stares up at Deacon with an eager expression.

 

Cassie’s fist, the one that’s still gripping his shirt, tugs gently at the material. “Are you sure?”

 

“You and I will have our time. Have your reunion with Cole.” Deacon grabs Amadeus’ leash from the hook on the wall in the mudroom off the kitchen, “Try not to break the bed.” He hooks the leash to Amadeus’ collar, “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

 

Outside, the air is heavy. He can feel the moisture in the air. As he and Amadeus head out towards the path that leads back to the woods, he studies the sky. There are dark in the distance and he can see bands of rain falling from them. Thunder rumbles but it’s low, barely audible. Deacon trudges onward, hoping it’s not a sign.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s on his knees.

 

Across from him, Jones and Cassie are huddled on one side, Jennifer is on the other, closest to him. Cole is in the center. The women are sobbing. Deacon knows he’s not leaving here. He’s known this since he and Jones returned to what was once his hidden cell on Titan. He felt his timeline change. He accepted it. Olivia wants Cole’s head first. She can’t have it. Deacon has to do what he can to buy them time. His life isn’t important. It never was. Well, except for now. Except for here, when he can use his verbal skills to draw this out because the others. They have to escape. They. Have. To. She’s making another fucking speech that he’s barely listening to.

 

“You gave away everything you could have been…for what?” She chides like he’s some damn idiot.

 

She never knew love. But he did. His love for his found family is stronger than any power she thinks she has. Deacon’s done what he can, drawn out the inevitable all he can. Tears build. He can’t stop them.

 

“For them. And I’d do it again…This I know.”

 

“Thank you for your sacrifice.” Olivia says. But there’s no inflection in her tone. Not even mockingly.

 

His tears fall as he stares at the others. Then there’s pain, just for a second. He can hear their screams. Then nothing.

 

Thunder cracks and he bolts upright. It’s dark. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can smell blood. So much blood. Is he awake? Is he still dreaming? He doesn’t know. He. Doesn’t. All he knows is fear. Fear has him in its grips like a vice. Blocking out everything. A scream tears from his lips, wrenched from his soul. The blood is on his hands as he shook her body. It was limp, lifeless.

 

“You killed her!” The words leave his mouth. His mother is gone.

 

There’s the sound of a dog barking, it’s loud and incessant. It doesn’t make sense. They didn’t have a dog. He’s father’s hand is on his throat, squeezing tight and he can’t drag in air. 

 

“Worthless.” His father’s voice hisses, the smell of rum on his breath churns Deacon’s stomach, “You thought you could help her. You can’t even help yourself, you’re a waste. Should have gotten rid of you the moment your mom found out she was pregnant with you.”

 

Tears fall from his eyes and darkness hedges in on the edge of his vision. He was worthless. He hadn’t been able to save his mom. But Shawn is still alive. Hidden in his closet where Deacon tucked him. Deacon musters the last bit of strength and takes a swipe at his dad’s face. He has to protect Shawn, has...to...keep...Shawn...safe...

 

There are arms holding him, restricting his arms as he tries to fight back. Deacon struggles harder against it, he has to protect Shawn!

 

“Deacon.” A male voice, not his father’s. Gentle, soothing, “Deacon, you don’t have to fight, you’re safe here. We have you.”

 

“Deacon.” A female voice, equally gentle, laced with sympathy, “Deacon, come back to us.”

 

Back to us? “She’s dead!” The words are a wail. But his voice works. There’s no hands around his throat. “I have to protect Shawn!” He drags in a breath.

 

“Shawn is safe.” The female voice again, “You’re safe. We have you.”

 

The barking stops and a howl erupts. It’s low and mournful. Deacon’s heart is about to beat right out of his chest as he focuses on the sound. That howl. He knows it. 

 

“Amadeus.” He chokes out.

 

“Yes.” The woman. Cassie. His woman. Partially.

 

“Why is it so dark?” Deacon pants. There’s no light in the guest room.

 

“Storm rolled in. We lost power.” The man. Cole. Friend.

 

“Fuck!” Deacon groans, there’s still a tight feeling around his throat and panic rides along with his frantic heartbeat, he pulls at the collar, soaked and heavy with sweat. His hands are shaking so bad he can barely get a grip. “I need this off. My shirt. I can’t fucking breathe!”

 

Two sets of hands are there, at the front and back, working as a fluid team to pull it up and over his head. Free of the tight material, Deacon pulls in a few breaths. They’re ragged but the air fills his lungs. 

 

“What happened, Deacon?” Cassie’s hands are on his skin, warm as she strokes his chest, seemingly uncaring about the sweat that still clings to him.

 

“I remembered dying.” He swallows, “In that castle. I tried to buy you time...” He shakes his head, trying to get his brain to focus, “The memory it, uh, it triggered a memory from this life...”

 

“Who’s dead?” Cassie’s voice is soft as is the touch of her hand through his hair.

 

“My mom. My dad killed her in front of me. Then tried to kill me.” Tears sting at his eyes, “Worthless.”

 

“Worthless?” Cole has that same quiet tone.

 

“He told me I was worthless.” Deacon exhales heavily, “As he was choking the life out of me.”

 

Cassie sniffles and then her body is pressed against his. Her nightgown sticks to his skin as she hugs him. “Not worthless. Never worthless.”

 

“That happened in this life?” Cole’s voice is filled with a touch of disbelief.

 

“Yeah. The other one...Ramse saved me from that fate. The...the plague took her though. When the outbreak first started. Her and my grandmother. Then it was just me and Shawn against the world. Until the Foreman killed him.” Deacon sighs.

 

There’s a small clink of metal and then the bed sags under a new weight. Amadeus licks his free hand, where it rests on the bed. The other wraps around Cassie’s waist. He takes another breath and rests his forehead on the slope of her shoulder. Cole’s hand curls around his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. Deacon closes his eyes and he’s back in the castle. Staring at Cassie and Jones, at Jennifer, at Cole. The women’s sobs ring in his mind. Cole is stoic, save those Otter Eyes. They’re filled with tears, with disbelief.

 

“I died.” Deacon whispers. 

 

He hears Cassie sniffle softly. Can hear the whimper building in her chest. Cole’s hand, heavy and calloused, moves down his back, rubbing it gently. 

 

“You saved us.” Cole murmurs, there’s a sadness in his voice, “We tried to save you, you know? Olivia paradoxed the moment so we couldn’t get back to you.”

 

“Figures that’s the only way the bitch could take me down.”

 

“It’s because you’re a survivor.” Cassie says softly, “Your will to live is stronger than anything.”

 

“Except a paradox.” He quips, straightening.

 

“Do you feel better now?” Cole asks.

 

“Just tried.” Between the memory dream and disorientation of waking up trapped in a trigger event, he’s mentally exhausted. As the adrenaline fades from his body, his limbs feel heavy, “Will you...will you stay?”

 

“Yes.” Cassie answers.

 

Cole presence leaves his back and the mattress moves, his weight leaving as well. Deacon’s heart twist and he swallows. They brought him back. Both of them. He doesn’t want Cole to leave. It’s an odd feeling. This wasn’t like their relationship before and it hits Deacon that he doesn’t want it to be. He doesn’t want that for them.

 

“I meant the both of you, Cole.” Deacon informs him, his voice rushed. He put out the offer but it’s still up to Cole to take it. He doesn’t have to. Deacon wouldn’t force him to stay if he didn’t want to, “If you don’t mind.”

 

There’s silence and Cassie’s lips graze his cheek, offering quiet comfort. 

 

“I can stay.” Cole’s weight dips the mattress, “Do you want me to be the big spoon?” His tone is teasing.

 

The offer may be a tease but being held is exactly what he wants right now. Deacon’s grateful for the dark so Cole doesn’t see him blush. He can’t believe he’s fucking blushing. “Would you mind?” Deacon asks tentatively.

 

He can feel Cassie’s lips curve into a smile against his skin. There’s a soft, almost incredulous laugh from Cole. “Really?”

 

“Who doesn’t want to be the little spoon?” Deacon mutters in defense, “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel safe.”

 

“No, there isn’t.” Cole agrees but he still sounds slightly amused.

 

“Stop fucking laughing at me and let’s do this.” Deacon rolls his eyes even if the others can’t see it.

 

It takes a minute of fine tuning after Deacon tells Amadeus to lay in his own bed. He ends of with Cole’s chest pressed against his back and Cassie’s back pressed against his chest. Their bodies are a sold wall of heat and weight, enveloping him in security. Deacon lazily drops a kiss to the back of Cassie’s neck and she makes a contented sound. 

 

“Deacon?” Cole’s voice breaks the quiet, “How did you survive? Your dad, I mean.”

 

“The neighbors called the cops. They arrived in time to pull him off me. Dad was arrested, charged, tried, and found guilty of murder, attempted murder, and a slew of battery and abuse charges. He’s serving four life sentences in Riker’s. He keeps trying to get in touch with me.” Deacon swallows, his throat tightening. He’s not told anyone that before and his breath hitches.

 

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” Cassie’s voice is soft but is firm, “You’re safe here. With us. We’ll never him hurt you again.”

 

“We’ll keep you safe.” Cole promises quietly.

 

“This I know.” Deacon whispers, the words heavy, even now. But they hold the hold the same reverence in his heart; the same love.

 

Cassie presses his arm against her waist while Cole settles closer to his back. Deacon has never felt safer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	8. Sooner or Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: Sexual Content

It’s only been three days and Deacon fucking misses Cassie. Cole too, if he’s being brutally honest. The intimacy that they built in that house, the safety he had felt with them...going back home to his apartment with Amadeus burst that bubble, leaving him with unexpected feelings. For the first time, his apartment feels so goddamn empty. He had wanted nothing more than to go to Cassie’s, where she and Cole were, and recapture that feeling of peace.

 

But he stays put. Cassie was just getting use to the idea of being in a polyamorous relationship; he didn’t want to smother her because he was being fucking clingy.

 

Time is going too fast yet impossibly slow as he’s serving up beer after beer on a busy Wednesday night, his mind distracted. He’s waiting on a phone call from his realtor about a possible building to house their second location. He’s waiting on Maddox, the creator of the West VII microbrew, to call him with thoughts on an idea for another specialty brew to be housed at said potential second bar. Waiting on Cassie and Cole, who are due any minute, to arrive. Patience has never been his virtue and right now, he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

 

Christ, he’s bridging on pathetic. Binx taps his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her. She’s wearing a scoop neck tank with the bar’s logo displayed between her generous tits. Her name tag, bearing her proper name: Bianca, is pinned to the wide strap. Her full lips are painted a rich purple that has a slight shimmer as she smiles. Her deep tan skin shimmers too. She’s all about the sparkle tonight.

 

“What’s up, Binx?” He asks.

 

“Got a call in the office, boss man.” She jerks her thumb towards the backroom, “It’s your realtor.”

 

“Finally.” At least he can check one thing off his list. He slings the towel from his shoulder and places it on top of her dark curls. It grosses her out but he still does it on occasion just to fuck with her. She’s fun to tease. Makes nights he’s working without Shawn or Max easier.

 

“Ew!” She whines and gives him a shove, pulling the offending towel from her head; the push doesn’t do anything but make him sway a little and she makes a face, “You’re such a dick.”

 

“You love me.” He replies with a laugh, heading out from behind the bar.

 

“Best boss man I’ve ever had.” She flashes a bright smile, “Good luck! I hope this is the one.”

 

 

He hopes so too. The search has been going on for months now. He wants a place to expand into. He winks at her and continues on his way. In his office, he settles into his chair and glances at the corded phone on his desk. The line is flashing red and he draws in a breath as he readies himself for whatever news that awaits on the other end.

 

Boyd’s tone tells him all he needs to know just by saying hello. The bad news is confirmed; the building got bought out from underneath him. Fuck. Boyd is determined, however. So not all hope is lost. Still fucking sucks though. Deacon hangs up with a sigh and a curse. There’s no use sitting at his desk and brooding. He still has a bar to run.

 

“Did you get it?” Binx asks, expression all hopeful, as he returns to his post behind the bar.

 

“Nah.” He shakes his head and takes the pint glass she was about to fill and does it himself, “Boyd is still looking though.”

 

She pats his bicep with a soft tap and a sympathetic smile. “You’ll find a place.”

 

“In time.” Deacon agrees. But how much time? It’s making him second guess the idea of expanding.

 

Thankfully he doesn’t have time to let it consume his thoughts. As Binx exits the bar, Deacon looks up in time to see Cassie and Cole enter. She’s dressed in a light pink wool, skirted pea coat that makes her look all proper but he knows what she looks like when all that is stripped away, knows the iron strength of her heart, the fire that burns in her veins. She smiles when she sees him and his heart flips.

 

Cole’s looking around, his expression wary. The expression slowly melts into something more pleasant, less pinched when their eyes meet. Deacon tries to take that as a good sign and begins making him a whiskey sour. Cassie takes her usual seat at the bar and guides Cole to the one on her right side, leaving Jennifer’s seat open. She leans up onto the bar and Deacon pauses his work. He meets her in the middle, brushing his lips against her cheek. As tempted as he is to kiss her on lips, he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep it to just one.  She grins brightly, knowingly, as she settles back. Cole is watching them, rather intently. His brown eyes are darker, not missing a movement. It kind of turns Deacon’s crank a little. But he reminds himself: flirting at work is fine, boners are not. Putting away those thoughts, Deacon gives Cole a cheeky grin as he slides the finished whiskey sour across the bar.

 

“Did you want a kiss hello too?” He asks Cole.

 

Cole ignores that and takes a drink of the classic cocktail, “Damn, this is actually incredible.” He sounds impressed.

 

“I am a man of many incredible talents.” Deacon retorts, keeping the leer in his voice, as he makes Cassie an Old Fashioned.

 

“Flirt.” Cole mutters into his drink.

 

Deacon chuckles low in his throat. “I am that too.”

 

Binx appears at his elbow and stops him from flirting any further. “Maddox is on the phone. I transferred it to your office.”

 

“Thanks, Binx.” He winks at Cassie and Cole, “I’ll be back.”

 

The phone call with Maddox is much more productive than his phone call with Boyd. They talk flavor profile, names, narrowing things down enough to run a test batch. When he hangs up the phone, an hour has passed, and some of the weight lifts off his shoulders, out of his chest. At least the night isn’t a total wash, job wise anyways. Plus, now he gets to go back out to Cassie and Cole. Just as he reaches the door, there comes a soft knock. It’s gentle. Respectful. Definitely not one of his employees.

 

He opens the door to find Cassie and Cole standing in the alcove. There’s a glint in Cassie’s eyes and it sends electricity down his spine. “What’s going on here?” He drawls.

 

“I’m giving Cole the tour.” Cassie steps inside, Cole following behind.

 

Deacon shuts the door behind them and leans against it, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, this is my office. It’s not much. But it doesn’t need to be.”  
  


Cole studies the wall that houses Deacon’s degrees, the glowing reviews in the paper that Max framed for him and Shawn as a gift. The few pictures that are up from opening night. Then he settles down at Deacon’s desk, relaxing back against the soft leather of the chair.  

 

Cassie pulls Deacon’s attention away as she slides into his arms. Her mouth hovers just under his. Just enough distance to be torturous.

 

“I missed you.” She murmurs, “I had to come get a kiss. A real kiss.”

 

Her lips capture his and Christ, she tastes good. Deacon can’t get enough of her. He deepens the kiss, groaning quietly as she responds in kind. There’s a sharp rapt at the door and before he can even break from Cassie, the door swings open. Binx fills the doorway, her eyes widening almost comically as she takes them in.

 

“Is this--? Are you two--?” She squeaks then cheers, “Hot damn! I won the pool.”

 

A pool? Jesus Christ. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s a pool?”

 

“Hey, your brother started it.” As if that was a good enough defense.

 

It wasn’t, knowing Shawn. Deacon’s not even sure he wants to know the perimeters but finds himself asking anyways. “What were you taking bets on?”

 

“On if you and Cassie would ever get together.”

 

“And no one thought it would happen?” Christ, that stings a little.

 

“Everyone else bet on you and Jennifer.”

 

“I don’t get why people keep thinking that.” He mutters, rolling his eyes, “Hope you all get a good laugh cuz you’re all fired.” He’s not serious, of course but he has to say it. Makes him feel better.

 

“Ha!” Binx dismisses his faux-threat with a wave of her hand, “I’m happy for you two.” She then notices that Cole is sitting behind the desk, “Who’s that guy and why’s he creeping in on you two while you make out?”

 

Bianca has no fucking tact sometimes. This is one of those moments. Deacon rolls his eyes and looks to Cole with a shrug.

 

Cole makes a face, sighs. “I’m her other boyfriend.”

 

Binx blinks. “Oh? Like an open relationship thing? Like what you had with Tris and Melody? Aw, is he your boyfriend too, D?”

 

Tristan and Melody Ashwright were the last people he dated. Tris and Melody had been just a couple at that point with an open polyamorous relationship. They brought Deacon in and things were great for a while. It came to an end the night of the soft opening of the bar. They wanted more than what Deacon could give them; they wanted permanence. Marriage. They went their separate ways. Well, he did. They got married. “You remember Tris and Melody?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Only because he was one of the most gorgeous men I’ve seen in my life.” She laughs and fans herself before turning somewhat serious, “Promise me I’m not going to find you having a threesome back here.” She wags her finger at him.

 

All Deacon can do is sigh. Heavily. Sweet fucking Christ on a bike. “Binx.” He draws her name out a bit, “Please get back to work.”

 

“I’m seriously so happy for you.” She reiterates, “The money I’m about to come into notwithstanding.”

 

He shakes his head. “How much?” He has a feeling he’s going to regret asking.

 

“Three hundred.”

 

Yep. Regrets. “You guys are such assholes.” He grumbles, “I’ll double it if you do me one favor.”

 

“For six hundred? Anything.”

 

“Don’t tell Max. I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. She’ll have my balls when she finds out she’s not the first.”

 

“Roger that, Boss man.” Binx grins, “Maybe she’ll forgive you if I ask her real pretty to.”

 

He doesn’t want to picture the context of where that conversation could take place. Not when it comes to Max.

 

“Bianca.” He says her name like a warning.

 

“Going!” She sing songs and shuts the door behind her with a quick slam. He flinches at the noise.

 

“Nosey fuckers.” He growls but there’s no real annoyance. He doesn’t know what he’d do without them. They’re his work family and they’ve been loyal since the start. Things could be worse.

 

Cassie nuzzles his jaw and laughs quietly. There comes a chime from her pocket and she pulls out her phone.

 

“Are all your employees like that?” Cole asks with a quirk of his brow.

 

“Nosey? Unfortunately. They’re a good bunch most of the time. When my brother isn’t goading them into making bets.”

 

Cassie smiles. “I’m going to go head out. Jennifer is waiting.”

 

“I’ll be right there.” Deacon gives her a quick kiss because he can’t stop himself and won’t, given the privacy of his office.

 

As Cassie disappears out of the doorway, his attention turns to Cole. The other man is studying him.

 

“What?” Deacon asks.

 

“Nothin’.” Cole rises from the chair and steps out from behind the desk, “Feeling a little jealous is all.”

 

Jealous of a kiss? Deacon frowns at him. “Of me and Cassie?”

 

“Not that part,” Cole gestures around at the office walls, “of this life you’ve built. The friends you have. I don’t have any of that.” Those big eyes are filled with something close to sadness, close to loneliness. It tightens Deacon’s throat.

 

“You have us. Jennifer.” Deacon assures him, offering the small comforts he can, “The other parts will happen. You just resurrected, Time Jesus. Give yourself a break.”

 

Cole sighs heavily. “I suppose you’re right.”

 

“I know I am.” Deacon grins.

 

“Cocky bastard.” Cole grins back but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

Deacon wants to change that; the last thing Cole needs is to carry another unnecessary burden. Especially in this life. When they shouldn’t be carrying anything but joy. Deacon catches his arm as Cole heads to the door. Cole stops, turning to face him. Cole looks down at Deacon’s hand then back up at him. Dark brows knit together.

 

“What?” Cole asks, his voice is quiet, patient.

 

Deacon keeps his tone serious, low. “You never did answer me earlier.”

 

“About?”

 

“If you wanted a kiss as well.” His thumb stokes along Cole’s bicep.

 

Cole blushes but doesn’t pull away. His smile is bashful yet Deacon can feel tension between them rising. The good kind. The kind that leads up to an intense payoff. Sooner or later.

 

“You’re such a damn flirt.” Cole utters, sounding vaguely breathless.

 

“You haven’t seen the half of it.” Deacon chuckles and lets Cole go. There’s a certain smug feeling that fills his chest, knowing he could affect Cole like that. “My offer stands.”

 

“I know.” Cole answers and Deacon swears his voice sounds a little huskier. Cole glances up at him through his lashes. His eyes linger for a moment on Deacon’s mouth. Then he shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a step back, “See you out there, Deacon.”

 

Deacon watches him go and the sudden weight of disappointment surprises him. But there’s nothing he can do about it. Not yet, anyways. He knows the next time he offers a kiss to Cole, it will be serious. He finds himself hoping Cole will take him up on it.

 

* * *

 

 

When Deacon gets off shift at eleven, things are the bar are still considerably busy for the middle of the week. Jennifer’s presence has seemed to relax Cole and Deacon’s actually seen him laugh; there are crinkles in the corners of Cole’s eyes when he laughs. Deacon hadn’t noticed that while they had been at the country house. Then again, their energy had been something more serious.

 

Cassie finds him leaving his office after he makes good on his promise and slips three hundred bucks into Binx’s pocketbook.

 

“Take me upstairs.” Cassie’s arms encircle his neck and she molds her body against his.

 

“You missed me, huh?” He drawls, his hands catching her hips.

 

“In every way.” She nuzzles her forehead against his chin.

 

He doesn’t need any further encouragement. Up in his apartment, he sends Cassie in the direction of his bedroom with a firm slap on the ass that draws a small squeak from her lips. He whistles for Amadeus as he watches her gracefully retreating form. His lust for her may be kicking into overdrive but he still has other responsibilities first. Thankfully, Amadeus doesn’t linger and Deacon is back inside within minutes. He’s in his bedroom in a few long strides. Cassie is stretched out on his bed, naked and smiling.

 

“You’re so damn beautiful.” Deacon murmurs as he strips off his clothes and kneels on the end of the bed.

 

She sits up, her green eyes alight with heat. He grabs his already hardening cock in his hand and gives it a lazy pump in his fist. Her eyes follow the movement and her tongue wets her bottom lip. He wants to feel that tongue on his cock, wants to feel her lips wrapped around him. Normally, he would take things slow, draw out the teasing between them. But he’s spent two days without her touch and he’s starving, needy.

 

He beckons her with a curl of his index finger. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

 

Cassie moves to him and the touch of her naked skin against his draws a groan from his mouth. How on earth can she be so soft? Despite the need to take things fast, he kisses her slow. His tongue sweeps along her bottom lip and she makes a soft noise. His hands travel her body, trailing the length of her spine, grabbing her fantastic ass. He wanted to put his lips everywhere his hands had been and he starting making his way downward. Down the slender column of her throat, across her collarbone. He splayed his hand across her chest, slid his other hand to the small of her back. With a little press against her sternum, she followed his guidance and arched her back, bending her spine into a graceful bow.

 

It juts her tits up just right and he lavishes them with attention until she’s squirming, her thighs rubbing together restlessly.

 

“Lay down, spread your legs for me, gorgeous.” He murmurs.

 

She moves down to the mattress and slides her legs open. He can see the evidence of her arousal glinting on her thighs and he positions himself down for a closer view. “Is this all because of me?”

 

“Yes.” Her hand finds the top of his head, her nails graze his scalp. A shiver runs down his spine.

 

Deacon’s tongue finds the slick skin of her inner right thigh and he gives her a nice long lick. She tastes good and he’s tempted to just bury his face in her pussy and eat her until she screams. Oh, he’ll make her scream but he wants her drive her a little crazy first. He moves to the other thigh and licks her again. All the way up to the edge of the apex. Cassie keens and bucks.

 

“Deacon!” Her voice is a whine. A beautiful noise.

 

He moves, hovering just above her clit and stays there.

 

“I swear to God, Deacon—“

 

She doesn’t finish her words because he sucks her clit. Cassie bucks, gripping his hair tighter. A moan breaks from her throat. He brings his hand up, strokes her softer outer lips with the backs of his fingers for a moment before he plunged two fingers into her. Her cries get louder and he gives her clit one last hard suck before he pulls away, working his digits in and out of her with focused speed. Her walls grip him tight, fluttering just a bit with a small orgasm. He can do better than that.  Make her come harder. He curls his fingers, seeking her g-spot, rewarded with a loud moan when they hit it just right.

 

He works her until she comes, his thumb brushing her clit until she crashes over the edge. Her juices coat his finger and her chest rises and falls quickly as she tries to catch her breath.

 

“Need you inside of me.” She pants, “Now!”

 

Deacon stretches over and grabs a condom out of his nightstand drawer. He puts it on and tosses the wrapper to the floor, kneels between her legs. He looks down at her, all disheveled and flushed; gorgeous beyond words. His. Positioning the tip of his cock at her entrance, he pushes deep with a slow thrust. Her nails score his hips.

 

“Yes.” She sighs, eyes closing in bliss.

 

He gives her a minute to adjust before he moves, flexing his hips in a slow, deep rhythm. Their eyes meet and she smiles, those sweet green eyes are soft and filled with lust and affection. All for him. He’s such a lucky fucking bastard. Deacon kisses her, letting their tongues duel as her nails dig into his hips, urging him harder, faster.  He can feel his orgasm building as her walls squeeze around him.

 

“Fuck, Cas.” He breathes.

 

“I’m close.” She whines.

 

“I know, baby. I can feel how tight you’re grabbing my cock.” He slides his hand to her clit, works the bundle of nerves with a firm press, stroking it in time with his thrusts. He’s rewarded with another squeeze of her walls and it makes him groan, “Fuck.”

 

She whimpers and her hips drive harder up to meet his, working faster.

 

“That’s my girl,” He encourages, “Come for me, Cassandra.”

 

She does; her walls gripping and milking around him. He continues to fuck her through the orgasm, chasing his own; hers helping him come.

 

“Fuck.” He growls and pulls out. Carefully, he pulls the condom from his cock and ties it off, snatching up the wrapper from the floor as he moves into his master bathroom to throw it all away.

 

Cassie comes in behind him and kisses his shoulder. “You’re incredible.” He tells her as he turns and drops a kiss to her forehead.

 

She laughs and it’s a little breathless. “You’re one to talk.”

 

Pride and smugness stir in his chest and he exits the bathroom to leave her to clean up. He tugs on a new pair of boxers and strips the sheets off his bed. If Cole’s going to spend the night, it’s the only polite thing to do. They hadn’t talked that far about their evening would go. Cassie comes out and watches him as he puts on a new fitted sheet. 

 

“Can I talk to you about something?” He asks as he sits on the edge of the bed.

 

“Of course.” She leans against his dresser, her eyes worried, “Is something wrong?”

 

“No, no.” He’s quick to assure her, “Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I hated being here without you and Cole. I feel…” He pauses, carefully considering his words. There’s a few things he could say, each option making him feel vulnerable. He’s never felt like this before, “I feel too far away.”

 

Cassie’s smile takes him lowers his guard and her words put him at ease. “We felt that way too. We liked it better when the three of us were together.”

 

The relief makes his chest heavy. “So, I’m not just gatecrasher to your relationship with him?” It’s been his worry, a splinter jammed into his heart. That what’s between him and Cassie is strictly…physical at its root. And sex can lose its charm and fizzle, cementing their doom. Something that had been on his mind too damn much those three days; sent anxiety spiraling into a whirlpool.

 

“Deacon, no.” Cassie crosses the room and straddles his lap, “You’re very, very much a part of this. Your absence was felt. Not just by me.” She cups his jaw, places a quick kiss to his lips, “Cole missed you too.”

 

His heart leaps. Maybe he’s not the only one feeling _something_? “He did?”

 

She nods. “We were going to talk to you about it when we were all together. But you beat us to it.”

 

“He’s coming upstairs, right?”

 

Cassie nods again. “Yeah. After he’s done visiting with Jennifer.”

 

Deacon looks over his shoulder, at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s nearly one. The bar closes at two. “How would you like to kill the time til then?”

 

“How about a shower?” Her grin is full of mischief. He loves it.

 

“Do you have plans for me?”

 

“You better believe it.”

 

He hauls Cassie up into his arms and carries her into the bathroom.

 

 

 

 

After their shower, complete with more orgasms, there comes a knock at the door. Deacon leaves Cassie toweling off in the bedroom and wraps his towel around his waist. Amadeus is at the door, wagging his tail. He lets out a soft _boof_ , his nails clicking on the hardwood in excitement. Deacon chuckles, knowing good company is behind the door, and scratches Amadeus’ ears before he opens it, revealing Cole. Cole’s blue eyes sweep over him. Deacon notices that it’s a slow once over, pausing briefly at his chest—his scars—before he meets his eyes. Deacon wonders if he’s imagining seeing heat in those deep depths; wishing for something that isn’t there.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Deacon asks with a lazy grin, “Get your ass in here.”

 

“Maybe I was waiting for a kiss hello.” Cole replies as he crosses the threshold.

 

“Now who’s the flirt?” Deacon shuts the door, resisting the urge to press Cole against it and take him up on it.

 

Cole toes off his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket. “I feel overdressed.”

 

“I can get you a towel if you want to match.”

 

The corner of Cole’s quirks and it looks like he’s biting his cheek. Deacon isn’t sure if he’s holding back something snarky or laughter. Cassie appears in the bedroom doorway, still naked.

 

“I’m definitely overdressed.” Cole mutters.

 

Deacon throws the lock and claps his hand around Cole’s shoulder, guiding him towards Cassie. “We can help with that.”

 

Inside the bedroom, Deacon almost laughs as Cole looks at his bed, then back at him.

 

“Are you expecting more company?” Cole asks, tugging off his shirt.

 

“I like my space. I also like lots of company.” Deacon smiles.

 

“At least we’ll all fit.” Cole undoes his pants, steps out of them.

 

“Would you feel more comfortable if I wore boxers?” Deacon eyes him. He wants to be careful with the boundaries, doesn’t want to push him.

 

“Whatever you want. Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” Cole shrugs.

 

That’s certainly the truth. With a grin, Deacon unhooks the fragile knot that’s holding it up and lets the towel fall to the floor. Cole looks his way but doesn’t say anything. But Deacon knows Cole just checked him out. The other man continues to undress until he’s naked as well. Deacon’s breath hitches softly, inaudible to anyone but him. They’ve never been naked at the same time before and it sends desire coursing through him. Deacon looks over at Cassie. She’s staring at them both, teeth tugging at her bottom lip. She feels it too. Wonders if he slips his hand between her legs if he’ll find her wet.

 

“She looks like she wants to eat us alive.” The words are smug as they leave Deacon’s tongue.

 

“Easy there, Cassie.” Cole chuckles, making his way to the right side of the bed and getting under the covers.

 

With it clear Cole isn’t interested in anything physical, Deacon buries that building lust. He shuts off the overhead light and joins them, getting on his side of the bed.Like the previous times they shared a bed, it takes a minute of adjustment until they’re all comfortable. Though this time, there’s the added electric rush of skin against skin. Deacon curls his arm around Cassie’s waist, inadvertently brushing his hand alongside Cole’s. Cole doesn’t try to move or pull away, and Deacon settles his arm so he’s able to touch them both.

 

“I want you both to stay with me.” Deacon states; bringing up the earlier topic he touched with Cassie.

 

“We want that too.” He can hear the smile in Cassie’s voice, “How should we do this? Should we do a trial run?”

 

Things could change with them all sharing the same space for a longer period of time. The country house is one thing. It’s removed from everyday life; its own private bubble. Navigating their relationship with work and other factors will take adjustment. Living with other people can add strain. Mostly why he’s been living alone. It’s less stressful. Cassie still keeping her place is a smart move. Deacon tries to look at it as a safety net for them.

 

“One week.” Deacon suggests, “and we’ll go from there?”

 

“Alright.” Cole’s voice is quiet.

 

With that decided, they lapse into momentary quiet. There’s the quiet clicking of Amadeus’s nails on the floor, the jingle of his collar tag as he comes into the room and settles into his bed.

 

“What is everyone’s plan tomorrow?” She asks, breaking the quiet.

 

There’s something comforting in talking about their days, their plans. It’s a step out of the lust fueled honeymoon stage, where things are driven by sex, and into the reality of sharing a life together, not just orgasms. Deacon drops a kiss to her shoulder. “I have breakfast plans with Max and Shawn at eight then I’m free for the day.”

 

“Are you going to tell them about us?” She questions.

 

“I had planned on it. Do you not want me to?” Deacon stills, his lungs holding onto the oxygen he’s just inhaled.

 

“No, it’s fine.” Cassie murmurs, touching his face, and he lets out the breath in a soft exhale.

 

His hand moves on its own accord, stoking along her stomach and Cole’s arm again. “I’ll give you my spare key in the morning, Cole. Feel free to move stuff in, whatever you need, whenever you need. The both of you.”

 

“I don’t have much.” Cole’s voice is quiet.

 

“Don’t need much,” Deacon replies, “Just you, just Cassie.”

 

“We do need clothes.” Cassie chuckles.

 

“Not with me.”

 

Cole’s laughter reaches him. Deacon smiles.  He listens as Cassie and Cole discuss their plans for tomorrow. She’s working her usual day shift: seven to seven. Cole is meeting with Jennifer to discuss him taking over the Emerson. Their quiet voices become comforting white noise and his eye drift shut as they lull him into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tris is an original character that made his first debut in my story [Battle Cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036550/chapters/32329806). I had done so much work on him that it felt natural to pull him in here as well. 
> 
> Binx is a completely new original character.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	9. Wish I May

On Sunday, the bar closes at eleven. It’s five minutes til closing time and impatience burns through Deacon’s veins as time seems to slow down to a crawl. Jennifer, Cole, and Cassie are waiting for him upstairs and he’s ready to be done. Max is wiping down tables and straightening up while he restocks the shelves with liquor. Usually the end of the night routine helps chase away the stress that builds up in his chest but tonight he just wants to go sink into his couch and have a drink.

 

So deep in his head and task, the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder startles him. It sends his heart into his throat and he turns, facing his brother. “What?” He snaps, unable to stop himself from sounding irritated; his movements jerky.

 

“Dude,” Shawn sighs, “Go home. Max and I got this.” There’s concern in his eyes and guilt quickly overshadows the irritation and Deacon swallows.

 

“Sorry.” He sighs, “I didn’t mean to snap.”

 

Shawn shrugs. “I know. I’d be impatient too if my girlfriend and sort of boyfriend were waiting upstairs for me.”

 

Deacon sighs and there’s a touch of melancholy to it. “Cole is not my sort of boyfriend.”

 

“He’s your sort of something.” Max leans on the other side of the bar, “You light up when you talk about him.”

 

“Christ, am I that obvious?” Deacon groused.

 

Max gave him a soft smile. “Only to us. Because we know you that well.”

 

That makes him feel better, at least. Though, he’s certain Cole knows him that well too. They’re still circling each other, still relearning to exist together. Deacon’s been flirting and Cole has been thawing to it, sometimes even flirting back. He still hasn’t gotten a kiss yet though.

 

“Are we ever going to meet him?” Shawn asks, elbowing Deacon in the ribs with a jab that makes him grunt.

 

“Soon.” Deacon wants to be on more secure footing with Cole before he subjects him to his brother. He’s more nervous to have Max meet Cole. Well, technically meet Cole again. She’s not shown any signs of remembering so far but she and Cole had had a deeper connection, had been lovers.

 

“Go home, D.” Max insists, “We can wrap this up.”

 

He leans over the bar top, meeting Max in the middle and drops a kiss to her head. “Thanks.”

 

Glancing at the time, it’s officially eleven and he gets his keys out of his office. He smacks Shawn on the back as he passes him. “I’ll lock the front door.”

 

On the opposite side of the glass door, Deacon turns the three locks with his keys while Shawn throws the inside security latch. He gives his brother a salute and watches Shawn walk back to Max, who smiles at him with a soft smile. He’s known for a long time that she’s in love with him. She hasn’t said anything but she doesn’t have to. He has no idea if Shawn realizes it. His brother is oblivious sometimes.

 

“I take it we missed last call.”

 

The accented voice that reaches his ears belongs to only one person and he smiles. “That you did.” He turns to face Katarina. Hannah stands beside her, looking surprised to see him. Apparently her mother didn't give her the heads up. “But friends are always welcome to have a drink at my apartment.”

 

Jones smiles and it tugs at his heart. She rarely smiled in the other timeline. But then again, there was never anything to smile about. “Miss Goines told me you finally remembered.”

 

He nods. “Sorry I was late to the party.”

 

She chuckles. “It’s quite alright.”

 

“I was serious about the drink.” He tells them, “My apartment is upstairs.”

 

“Lead the way.” Hannah says.

 

He does. Unlocking the front door and stepping inside, he’s greeted by Amadeus’ happy-to-see-you dance and laughter coming from the living room.

 

“We have company.” Deacon calls to them as he crouches to ruffles Amadeus’ ears.

 

Jennifer and Cassie’s heads pop over the back of the couch and their expressions shift to matching smiles. They join them by the door, exchanging hugs and hellos. Deacon hears a door open and Cole emerges from the hall, pausing at the end. His eyes are so damn wide and they brim with tears. Jones is the first to notice him. There’s joy in her eyes, mixed with tears.

 

“James.” Her voice is a whisper.

 

At the sound, Hannah pulls away from Jennifer and gasps softly. “My James!”

 

My James? There’s a piece to this puzzle that Deacon is missing but falls into place when she rushes to him and wraps her arms around Cole, sobbing. Cole cries along with her.

 

“Hi, Mom.” He replies, holding her tight.

 

Mom? The floor might as well have opened underneath him. “I take it I missed something.”

 

“Yeah.” Jennifer’s voice is gentle, “Turns out Hannah’s his Mama, Jones is his Grammy. We found out after you…”

 

Deacon touches his throat, interjects. He doesn’t need her to say it. “Yeah.”

 

He knew that Jones was the reason Cole had survived in the end, Cole had told him and Cassie that while they were at the country house. He just hadn’t known that detail. They all move into the living room and he sits in the armchair on the other side of the couch, leaving Cole to be surrounded by his family. Deacon’s happy for him, honestly. Since he has nothing to add to this moment, he sits quietly, listening to them talk.

 

“I woke up on the morning of your birthday in pain.” Hannah’s voice is thick with emotion, “I didn’t know what was happening. I had dreamt of your birth and sobbed when I woke and you weren’t in my arms. That your face wasn’t the first thing I saw.” She touches Cole’s face, wiping away a tear, “But you’re here now. While I’m not the same Hannah that was your mother, my heart still loves you just the same.”

 

Cole nods, lays his cheek on her head. “I love you too.”

 

Deacon gets to his feet and moves into the kitchen. Absentmindedly, he fixes himself a drink, downs it, and makes himself another. The emotional reunion is something Cole deserves to experience on his own. As happy as he is for Cole, watching it makes Deacon feel like an outsider. Hannah was Cole’s mother, Jones’ was his Grandmother. Cassie was his wife. Jennifer was his adopted sister. And what was he? There was no title, no definition. He was nothing. It was an ugly feeling. One he wanted to purge, to obliterate from his system. A scratch at his leg distracts him and he finds Amadeus looking up at him with big eyes.

 

“What’s up?” He asks him, kneeling and petting his chest, “Do you want a treat?”

 

Amadeus licks his hands with enthusiasm. Deacon takes it as a yes and grabs a meaty treat out of the pantry. Amadeus spins and Deacon points to the floor. The pup sits and he tosses the treat. Amadeus catches it and snarfs it down with the minimum amount of chewing. If Deacon hadn’t seen him once eat a rock and pass it just fine, he would have been concerned. Jennifer enters the kitchen, walks over to him. She studies his face with those eyes that see too much.

 

“You okay?” She asks.

 

“They’re a family.” He says softly, tilting his head in the direction of the others.

 

“We’re both a part of that family too, Deeks.” Jennifer replies.

 

“You are, for sure. But me?” He scoffs softly, “I don’t know what I am.”

 

“I do.” Jennifer wraps her arms around his ribs, resting her head on his chest.

 

He sighs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

 

“Cassie and Cole love you, you idiot.” She chides him, “You’re theirs.”

 

“It’s a nice thought, Peaches.” Deacon mutters, “But we’re figuring things out still. I’m hardly theirs.”

 

“Are you kidding? I know they’re living here for the week. They both sleep in your bed each night. That’s not nothing.”

 

Deacon swallows. The emotions in his chest, in his heart spiral, tainted by darkness. The negativity of this thoughts. “Until the day they discover that I can be left behind and they will still be a family.”

 

Jennifer jerks out of his arms. “Theodore, stop this.”

 

He flinches at the sound of his first name. He hates it still; irritates spikes and he grits his teeth. “Don’t do that. Don’t first name me. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

 

Her dark eyes flash with irritation. “Then and now, we _need_ you. Without you, we’re incomplete. So stop the negativity train.”

 

Deacon closes his eyes and pulls her back. A resigned feeling blankets the other emotions, muffling them. “Trust me, Peaches. If I could, I would.”

 

She snuggles back into him. “I know. You worry too much about having a place to belong that you don’t see the places you do.”

 

“You almost sound like my therapist.” He snorts.

 

“Well, listen then, dumbass.”

 

Deacon rolls his eyes. “Bossy.”

 

“Damn right.”

 

He smiles against the softness of her hair and gives her a squeeze, grateful he as her to hold on to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Since Cassie has her charity board meeting tonight, why don’t we go out and get some dinner later?”

 

The toothbrush in Deacon’s hand stills for a moment before he quickly finishes brushing his teeth. Spitting the frothy toothpaste into the sink, he rinses his mouth and the brush, putting it away in the holder next to Cassie and Cole’s. He turns to face Cole, who is leaning in the bathroom doorway, watching him. Cole looks happier than he’s been and Deacon’s smiles. Yesterday’s doubts still linger but they’re not suffocating him like they were.

 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Deacon agrees, “Is there a certain place you have in mind?”

 

“One of the guys at the Emerson have been talking about this new steak place.” Cole replies, “Thought maybe we could check it out.”

 

“Works for me.” Deacon leans against the counter, bracing his hand behind him, “What would you like to do with our day until then?”

 

It’s the first time that they’re off together and on their own without Cassie. There’s a lot of hours to kill until dinner.

 

Cole shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

 

They end up spending the day running errands. Cole needs some more clothes. They need more milk, coffee, soap, and a few other grocery things. After a quick, small, lunch, they take Amadeus for a long walk in Central Park. The day passes with surprising quickness and before Deacon realizes it, it’s time for them to get ready for dinner. After looking up the restaurant, he finds it’s a nicer place so they dress in suits. Deacon wears the one Cassie picked out for him when they went to that erotic art gallery and Cole dresses in the suit he got that afternoon. They look fine as hell.

 

Dinner is amazing. The food is fantastic, the bourbon is perfectly aged. Most of all, he’s having a great time with Cole. The whole day has had a surprisingly intimate feel to it but now it’s been amped up. Maybe it’s the romantic lighting the restaurant has going on. Maybe it’s the fact that everything is fancy and it’s just the two of them. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel like it’s a simple dinner.

 

Deacon sets down his fork and looks across the table at Cole as it dawns on him. The revelation hits him like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “Are we on a date?”

 

Cole smiles and there’s a touch of amusement in his eyes. There’s also something else. Something Deacon is almost scared to name. “Would that be a bad thing?”

 

“No.” Grabbing his bourbon, Deacon takes a slow drink. “I have to say, you’re a much better date than the last guy I went out with. He kept hounding me for a blow job in the bathroom while we ate. You know how to make a man feel special.”

 

“Who says I’m not after a blow job in the bathroom?”

 

Deacon nearly chokes on his booze. “For you, I’d consider it.” He answers when he recovers. Tries not to picture being on his knees in front of Cole, Cole being on his knees in front of him. Desire stirs and his eyes unconsciously fall to Cole’s mouth.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Cole chuckles softly, “I’m glad I could make you feel special.” There’s warmth under Cole’s serious words, he’s no longer teasing.

 

They make Deacon feel warm too. “You do.” He says softly, his heart pounding in his chest.

 

Smugness creeps into Cole’s smirk but he says nothing, instead he eats another bite of steak. When dinner is done, Cole pays the bill and they take a taxi back to the apartment. The ride is quiet but the intimacy still lingers. Cole’s leg is pressed against Deacon’s and Deacon nonchalantly curls his arm around his shoulders. Cole doesn’t push him away, instead he relaxes, a slow smile touching his lips.

 

Amadeus greets them at the door and Deacon takes him outside. Glancing at his watch, it’s only nine and Cassie’s board meetings in the past have run til just after ten. The warm feeling still lingers in his chest. Cole could just be paying him back and flirting with him like Deacon’s been doing the entire time. _But what if he’s not._ The little voice in the back of his mind is way more optimistic. Back inside, he unleashes Amadeus and finds Cole shirtless, a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. Deacon feels overdressed.

 

After he locks the door, he makes his way to Cole. “Thanks for a great date.” Deacon drawls.

 

“You’re welcome.” Cole chuckles and the corners of his eyes crinkle and makes Deacon’s heart skip a beat.

 

Deacon touches Cole arm, brushing his fingertips up his forearm. Deacon’s fingertips encounter raised skin, a scar. He doesn’t have to look to know which it is. It’s the West VII brand that Deacon had given him after he was initiated into the group. Cole shivers; it’s effect is instant on Deacon. He wants to see him shiver again.

 

“Do you wish you that you didn’t have this mark?” Deacon asks softly, stroking it again, “My mark?”

 

Cole shakes his head. “No. It’s a reminder of all we went through. Of that life. It’s over now and we have our paradise.”

 

Deacon swallows, heart thudding in ears. “Being here with me? Is that still paradise for you? Are you sure I’m not interfering with your happy ever after with Cassie?” He searches Cole’s big brown eyes, hoping what he finds doesn’t destroy his heart.

 

“ _Deacon_.” Cole cups his jaw; his tone is gentle. His hand is warm, commanding. His smile is filled with affection, “You worry too much.”

 

“I wish I could stop.” Deacon sighs, leans into the touch.

 

“Maybe this will help.” Cole closes the space between them, his lips brush against Deacon’s and Deacon melts.

 

Deacon wraps his hand around the back of Cole’s neck, keeping him close as he deepens the kiss. Slow at first but then Cole’s tongue sweeps over his lower lip and slow goes out the window.  Deacon moves, piloting Cole backward until his back touches the closest wall. Deacon can feel Cole’s cock getting hard and he rolls his hips, rubbing against his length. Cole moans against his mouth and sinks his teeth into Deacon’s lower lip. It’s Deacon’s turn to moan as the slight sting of pain sends electricity down his spine and his cock hardening.

 

As far as first kisses go, this one is fucking incredible. Deacon breaks the kiss, presses his forehead against Cole’s as he works to catch his breath.

 

“That help?” Cole’s just as breathless as he is.

 

Deacon’s mouth quirks. “A little bit. I think another one will help more.”

 

Cole laughs and pulls him in for another kiss.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my bestie for reading it over
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	10. Natural Life

A loud commotion snaps Deacon’s attention away from tap; raised voices and heated words. There’s a few people in one of the tables in the middle of the room that seem to be wrapped in some sort of argument. Not that that’s an unusual thing; people get rowdy when they drink. He finishes pouring the beer for his regular, Hank, and gives it to him, keeping a wary eye on the group. There’s a tension in the air tonight that turns his guts in warning. Few old adages ring true but this one does: nights of a full moon brings out wildness in people.

 

“My boss loves this place and I thought it was time I checked it out for myself.”

 

The voice that speaks sounds like it belongs to someone who smoked eight packs a day since they were ten. It’s deep and rough and throaty and Deacon knows the owner before he even turns. Deacon grabs a bottle of West VII and uncaps it, sliding it across the bar, where it’s caught by Ramse’s hand.

 

“Oh? That so?” Deacon leans his forearms on the bar as Ramse picks up the bottle and laughs softly, “Who’s your boss?”

 

“Well, I’ve come to discover you call her Peaches. I just call her Jennifer. Sometimes when I’m feeling nostalgic, I call her Coocoo Puffs.” Ramse takes a drink and nods in appreciation, “Damn, this shit is good.”

 

Ramse’s answer tells him all Deacon all he needs to know. He scoffs at the appraisal of the West VII brew. “Of course it is. I helped create it, I stock it in my bar. It has to be fucking good.”

 

Ramse smiles widely and holds up his hand, Deacon smacks his hand into it and grips it in a gesture they use to use a lifetime ago. Maybe in this life, they can actually be friends. Hard maybe.

 

“How’s it goin’, Deek?” Ramse asks, taking another drink as he studies him.

 

“Not bad.” Deacon inclines his head, gestures around, “Welcome to my kingdom. It’s filled with drunks and people looking for a good fucking time.”

 

A rough laugh erupts and Ramse settles the bottle down heavily. “What else is new?”

 

That earns him an actual laugh. “It’s good to see you. I really mean it.”

 

Something crosses Ramse’s dark eyes and he nods. “Same here, Deek.”

 

“So you work for Jennifer, eh?” Deacon spots another regular and readies a bottle of pilsner before sliding it down to them.

 

“She made me head of security at Markridge. Good job. Good hours. I get off just in time to get my boy from school.”

 

“Jennifer takes care of us all, apparently.” Deacon smiles, “She’s been loyal here since day one, before I remembered.”

 

Binx rounds the bar and the look on her face sends alertness jolting down Deacon’s spine. He locks on her and beckons her over, stepping away from Ramse. By the time she reaches him, her expression is one of anger. A look he never sees cross her face.

 

“What’s up, Binx?”

 

“Those fucks are cut off at that table.” She growls.

 

“Do I need to kick them out?” The anticipation of violence feels like he’s slipping on a pair of gloves; it fits him, it shields him.

 

“Not yet.” She replies with a wary sigh, “Let them sober up a bit and see if they settle down.”

 

“Alright.” Deacon nods, settles a hand on her shoulder, attempting to soothe her, “Go take a breather in my office if you need.”

 

Her arms lock around him, startling him. “I’m taking you up on it.”

 

That’s when he knows that they’re in for a bad night. Her body is rigid and he can feel the tension as he gives her a brief hug back. “Scoot, Binx. I got you.”

 

“Thanks, D.” She murmurs and flees.

 

“Fuck.” Deacon sighs.

 

“Trouble?” Ramse asks.

 

“It’s something.” Deacon looks for Shawn and signals him over with a nod when he manages to catch his brother’s attention.

 

Shawn leans on the bar in the open space between Ramse and Hank. “What’s up, bro?”

 

“We may need to throw that group out.”

 

Shawn makes a face. “Table six?”

 

“Yep. Binx is taking a breather in my office.”

 

“Jesus.” Shawn shakes his head, “Full moon, dude.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’ll keep an eye on it.” Shawn pushes back and rolls his neck in a slow circle, “I’ll go check on Binx first.”

 

Deacon nods. “Good call.”

 

Shawn strides away and Deacon is hailed to get a few more drinks from two other regulars around the bar and makes a few more cocktails for a table and passes them to Axel to serve before he can turn his attention back to Ramse. He nods at the bottle of West VII.

 

“Want another?”

 

Ramse smiles. “Sure.”

 

Deacon uncaps another and gives it to him. He glances at the time and knows Cole should be home by now. Cole promised he’d come down after he took out Amadeus. The corner of Deacon’s mouth curls into a smile; the impending reunion may cut through the negative energy that’s been building. Thank Christ.  
  
“What are you smiling about?” Ramse noticed his unconscious grin.

 

“Not a damn thing.” Deacon chuckles, as he wipes down the counter in front of a vacated seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cole come through the front door. “Except your brother just walked in.”

 

“Fuck you, Deacon.” Ramse shoots him a glare.

 

Deacon sighs, fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not kidding, Jose.” He points over to Cole, who’s standing there all struck like a damn idiot.

 

Ramse nearly topples his fucking chair as he shoots out of it, embracing Cole with laughter, some tears, and lots of back slapping. Cole’s smile is so happy that it steals the breath Deacon was about to take. Cole’s eyes find him and Deacon gives him a wink before he busies himself making drinks as three orders come in.

 

By the time he’s finished, Cole and Ramse are now seated at the bar. Deacon sets down a whiskey sour in front of his lover and the urge to lean across the bar to kiss him hello is sharp enough that it could draw blood. But he settles for a simple nod in his direction; he’s certain that Ramse isn’t ready to find out about them yet. He’ll let Cole take the lead on it.

 

“Well here’s the party.” Jennifer’s voice is amused as she takes her usual seat.

 

“Peaches.” Deacon greets her and slides her a bottle of West VII.

 

“Deeks.” She replies with a salute of the bottle and a grin before she raises it to Cole and Ramse, “Boys.”

 

“Hey, Boss.” Ramse clinks his bottle against hers.

 

Before Deacon can sink into the comfort of their presence and banter, the tension that has been building from Table Six explodes. Chairs topple over, crashing to the floor with a screech and a bang. Fists begin to fly and he’s moving from behind the bar without a second thought. Not in his goddamn house. He and Shawn get in the middle of the scuffle; his adrenaline wires his blood, calling to his fighting instincts, the ones he’s worked so hard to reign in. They, with the surprising help of Hank, get the main two assholes under control but it’s not without damage. Shawn is bleeding from his nose and Deacon can vaguely feel the sting of a cut on his forehead.

 

After they bodily remove the assholes and their party from the premises, they get back to business. Binx is already fixing up the table with Axel and there’s a stillness in the bar that makes his spine prickly.

 

“Sorry for those assholes.” Deacon lets his voice carry over the uneasy din, “Next round is on me!”

 

That breaks the ice and sends cheers up. Relief unravels the tension that’s tight in his chest. Deacon claps a hand on Hank’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “And you, your drinks are covered for the next month.”

 

Hank shakes his head. “Not necessary.” He’s a man of few words; has been since the first day he sat himself at the bar, a week after they opened. Deacon’s only heard him speak maybe fifty words in that time.

 

Deacon fixes him with a look. He’s not going to back down from this. Loyal is honorable and no matter the timeline, that carries weight. “Absolutely necessary. You didn’t have to help us. You risked injury to get involved. I’d like to repay that.”

 

With an audible sigh, Hank nods. “Fine.”

 

They make their way back to the bar and Deacon pours Hank a drink. After he returns to the others. Jennifer’s eyes are wide.

 

“Deacon, you’re bleeding.”

 

Is he? The mere thought of it brings the warmth of the blood trickling down his forehead into focus, along with the sharp sting of pain. Gingerly, he lifts his hand to his forehead and it comes back stained with blood. The sight tightens his throat, seizes his heart. He can’t tear his eyes from it and it blots out everything else. All he can see is red. All he can hear is his breath, ragged and harsh.

 

A hand breaks his focus. It cuts across his line of sight and grips his shirt front. “Theodore.” The voice speaks above the labored breaths, registering slowly. Shawn’s voice tries again, “Theo. Hey. I’m here, big brother.” Shawn forces his face up until they’re looking eye to eye.

 

Deacon studies his face, using that to keep him from slipping back. There’s no trace of his nosebleed but there’s still redness around his nose. Shawn’s eyes are serious but there’s a lopsided smile on his lips.

 

“There you are.” Shawn releases his shirt and pats his cheek, “Now stay here with us. Go wash up, take a minute. I got the bar.”

 

With a nod, Deacon pulls away and moves to the backroom on autopilot. He goes into the men’s room and washes his hands, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Looking up into the mirror, the first thing he sees is the blood. Swallowing thickly, he grabs some paper towel and works to clean it off. When it’s gone, his green eyes stare back at him, taking in the paleness of his blanched skin.

 

“Fuck.” He whispers, the sound swallowed by steady fall of water.

 

He turns it off and goes into his office, finding Cole waiting for him. “Are you okay?”

 

Deacon shuts the door behind him, exhales heavily. “Yeah.” He crosses the room, stopping just in front of where Cole is perched on the edge of his desk. He still needs a bandage or something for the cut but right now, all he can think of is the comfort of Cole’s arms. But he doesn’t move, just stands there as exhaustion works its way through his limbs as the adrenaline continues to fade.

 

Cole stands up and maneuvers him until they’ve switched spots and he’s now sitting on the edge of his desk. “Would you ever think I wouldn’t be able to stomach the sight of blood on my hands?” Deacon mutters with a humorless laugh. In that other life, he fucking lived for it.

 

Cole steps into his space, curls his hand around the back of his head. “You’re not the Scav King here.” Cole reminds him, his thumb strokes along his crown, down to massage the muscles of his neck.

 

“Is it bad that sometimes I miss it?” He meets Cole’s eyes, “I was stronger then.”

 

“You’re strong here.” Cole kisses him, just a brief touch of his lips against Deacon’s, “Don’t think otherwise.”

 

Deacon grips Cole’s hips and pulls him closer. That small kiss left him needing more and he draws him in for another, taking it deeper. Cole made a noise in his throat and Deacon wished they were upstairs so he could hear him make more noises, hear which ones he could draw from him. His cock is already hard just from this and

 

“Later, I’m going to fuck you and your delicious mouth.” Deacon murmurs after he breaks the kiss, “I like the sounds you make.”

 

“You’re so fucking dirty.” Cole laughs, the sound is breathless and those blue eyes gleam with lust.

  
“This is nothing.” Deacon smiles, “I can get obscene.”

 

“Fuck.” Cole breathes, studies him for a moment, his eyes growing serious, “Think Shawn can take over the rest of your shift?”

 

“Probably but I should really finish it out.” Deacon leans back and readjusts the front of his jeans as his cock calms down.

 

Cole frowns. “I’m not just after your dick. Need I remind you of your head wound?”

 

A sigh leaves his chest. “No, you don’t. If Cassie plays doctor with me later, do you want to be my nurse?” He gives Cole a grin.

 

“Is this really how you’re dealing with things?”

 

“Yep.”  
  


Cole smiles and shakes his head. “Okay. Ready to go out there?”

 

“In a minute.” He rises and grabs the first aid kit from the corner.

 

“Want me to wait for you?”

 

Pulling out some butterfly bandages, he shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Go on and hang out with Ramse and Peaches. No need to worry over me.”

 

Cole steps up behind him and embraces him from behind. “I do, though.” He rests his forehead on the back of Deacon’s shoulder.

 

“I’ve deal with much worse than a cut on the head. Remember when you and Ramse handed me over for the Foreman so he could kill me?” His face took two weeks to heal and hurt like hell, “This is nothing.”

 

He can feel Cole’s posture stiffen and he laughs a little, turning in Cole’s arms. “Don’t get all morose on me now. I didn’t hold it against you then, did I?”

 

“No.” Cole sighs.

 

Deacon drops a fast kiss on his lips. “Then don’t feel bad over it now, sweetness. Go, drink. Have fun. I’ll be out when I’m all taped up.”

 

Cole pulls away. “Have it your way.”

 

Deacon’s lips quirk. “I will.”

 

“Stubborn ass.”

 

“It’s why you love me.”

 

Cole’s hand pauses on the doorknob. “Just one of the reasons.”

 

Then he’s gone and Deacon can’t stop the goofy smile that crosses his lips. With deep inhale, he straightens and goes to take care of the cut.

 

Back out at the bar, things are back to normal. The atmosphere has settled and he can breathe normally again. The rest of the night flies by: Ramse leaves around ten to relieve the babysitter and Jennifer catches a ride with him. After he punches out, he and Cole head home. He’s ready for a shower and a drink and some good, dirty fucking to wash the night away. Cassie and Amadeus greet them at the door. She takes in his bandages and fusses over him. The tenderness of her touch makes him want to drop to his knees. Instead, he scoops her up, pressing her body tight against his, and kisses her. It’s deep and thorough and they’re both breathless by the time they break apart.

 

“When did Amadeus go out last?” He asks.

 

“About ten minutes before you arrived.” Cassie answers, brows drawn down, “Why?”

 

“Because I want a shower and I want you and Cole with me. With no interruptions.”

 

Cole locks the door and his hand comes to rest on the small of Deacon’s back. “What are we waiting for?”

 

 

 

After a long, incredible shower, Deacon is tangled up with them in bed. Amadeus is snoring not-so-quietly in the corner while they talk; their voices muted. He’s in the middle for once, framed by their warm bodies. Both their heads rest on his chest while his hands idly stroke their backs, trace the grooves of their spines. He’s in heaven, plain and simple. There’s nothing else on this earth or in the afterlife that can be as good as this moment.

 

“I’ve come to a decision.” Cassie murmurs, “I want to stay here. I like us all living together.”

 

“Yeah?” Deacon’s heart threatens to explode with joy, he can’t keep the wonder out of his tone.

 

“Yeah.” Cole agrees, “Nowhere else I want to be.”

 

He drops a kiss to Cassie’s head, then Cole’s. They have no idea what they’ve given him. Joy. Hope. _Love._

 

“We got our first piece of mail today.” Cassie’s voice is amused, “Addressed specifically to _The Deraile’s_ and Amadeus.”

 

Deacon chuckles. Only one person knew about their relationship with enough familiarity to break it down from Deacon, Railly, and Cole. “I see Peaches was having fun.”

 

“She was. It’s in invite to her birthday party this weekend. It’s at her estate in Key West.” Cassie fingertips tap on his chest, echoing the rhythm of his heart, “I guess we’ll have to go to the country house another weekend.”

 

That had been their original plan. But a weekend celebrating in the Keys? Sun, beach, ocean? With his loves? For Jennifer? “Sounds like we’re in for some fun.” A grin grows on his face, “If it’s anything like that one weekend in Vegas…”

 

Cassie lets out a laugh that trails off into a light groan. “God, that was a crazy weekend.”

 

“This one will be even better.” Deacon drawls and trails his fingers up Cole’s spine, this time plunging up into his hair and pulling lightly. Cole’s eyes drift shut and a smile crosses his lips, “I think we could all use a little wild vacation.”

 

“How wild is wild?” Cole asks, opening his eyes.

 

Deacon’s only answer is a low laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	11. Away

As Deacon steps into the hangar of Jennifer’s private airstrip with Cassie, Cole, and Amadeus in tow, he discovers Jennifer didn’t just invite them to The Keys. She invited the entire Team Splinter family. Katarina and Hannah stand with Ramse and Whitley. Amadeus woofs softly when he spots Jennifer in the middle of the group and his nails click on the cement as he does his doggy happy dance. He’s off his leash and patiently waiting at Deacon’s side but clearly wants to go see Peaches.

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Deacon tell him, “Go say hi.”

 

Amadeus trots over to Jennifer, his tail swinging so fast Deacon is impressed the lug of a dog can even walk. Jennifer stops talking when she sees him and immediately drops into a crouch. She greets Amadeus with a hug and lots of kisses as they walk over. Jones is the first to see them and her smile is warm.

 

“It looks like our party is complete.” She declares as Cole draws her in for a hug.

 

Deacon greets Whitley with a hug and smack on the back, which the other man returns. There’s hugs all around as everyone says their hellos. There’s excitement in the air. Deacon can feel it, like the buzz of caffeine in his veins. The flight crew takes their luggage and moves to store it as the rest of the group talks.

 

“What took you guys?” Jennifer asks, lingering in his arms.

 

“Needed coffee.” Deacon apologizes gesturing with the large travel mug in his hand, “Slept like shit last night.”

 

“For fun reasons, I hope.”

 

His sigh is filled with longing. “I wish. My insomnia is coming back.” He’s dealt with a month long bout before and he hopes this isn’t the beginning of it again.

 

Jennifer wrinkles her nose. “I remember the last round. Please tell me you’re not going to take those sleeping pills again?”

 

His doctor had prescribed sleeping pills and to say the side effects were terrible was a goddamn understatement. Nausea. Headaches. Dizziness. Then he started doing things in his sleep, including sleep walking. Ordering random shit online was entertaining when he got the “surprise” packages in the mail. But the night he woke up while cooking a grilled cheese? That was too much for him. Jennifer ended up having to stay with him to help monitor him when he weaned off of it. He’d rather have the insomnia. “Fuck no.” Deacon shakes his head.

 

She nods and touches his face, thumb idly smoothing his eyebrow. “Here’s hoping this weekend will help.”

 

“I’m fucking ready for it.”

 

With a huffing laugh, she pulls out of his arms and gestures to the private jet. “It’s ready when we are.”

 

In that case…He captures her around the waist and hauls her over his shoulder, managing balancing her weight while carrying his coffee in the other hand, moving towards the stairs. “Let’s get this party started!”

 

The flight isn’t long. Just about four and a half hours. Then it’s a half hour drive to Jennifer’s estate. It’s smaller than her mansion on New York but not by much. Inside, the house is modern and sprawling and yet maintains a homey feel to it.

 

“Okay, so feel free to pick whatever rooms you want on that side of the house.” Jennifer points up the stairs and to the left, “My room is on the other side. Make yourselves at home!”

 

They all trudge up the stairs with their bags and scope out the bedrooms. Deacon ditches his luggage in the bedroom next to the one Cassie and Cole claim. He heads downstairs, more curious about the rest of the house than he is settling in. He, Cassie, and Cole had agreed on the drive to the air strip that they would keep their relationship quiet for the time being. This weekend is about Jennifer; celebrating her. It’s not the time to announce the fact the three of them are dating. Especially when Deacon is certain Ramse will not be happy about the news. Even though they’re friendly—friendlier in a way they’ve never been, that doesn’t mean Cole’s adopted brother would approve.

 

But they’ll have time together, in the privacy of the bigger of the two rooms, after everyone has gone to bed.

 

Deacon discovers as he explores, where the house is nice, the outside is fucking amazing. He steps out onto the small covered porch and moves down the steps on to the patio, shadowed by Amadeus. There’s a large in ground pool with a wall waterfall on one side.

 

The other side has a hot tub area that’s raised above the pool’s water level. But the coolest part is the middle. There’s a raised gazebo that is over the top of the water and creates a small bridge that separates the halves of the pool. As Deacon walks around the pool, he finds there’s a tunnel that you can swim under. Amadeus wastes no time and jumps in the pool, swimming around while letting out happy barks. Cassie and Cole join Deacon, standing on either side of him, watching Amadeus doggy paddle from end to end.

 

Deacon’s eyes fall on an outdoor shower and he gives his lovers a grin. This place gives him too many ideas. “I’m going to fuck you both in that shower.” He keeps his voice low, just for their ears.

 

Cassie laughs softly, the sound alight with joy and a touch of helplessness while Cole shakes his head.

 

“It’s big but I don’t think we’ll all fit.” Cole replies, “Not to mention that the door is just glass…”

 

Deacon can’t stop grinning. “It would be hot.”

 

“Kinky fucker.” Cole chuckles and turns on his heel, heading back up the steps into the house.

 

“It would be hot.” Cassie’s voice is almost a purr.

 

Of course she likes the idea. He looks down at her and the way she looks back up at him, mischief in her eyes. Teeth teasing her bottom lip. It takes every bit of his willpower not to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her until she’s breathless. _Fuck_. This weekend is going to be hard. He knew that when they decided this but he didn’t realize it would hurt so sharply. But he can’t not touch her. He slings an arm around her shoulder and pulls her in. He ducks his head close to her ear, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin but not close enough to graze the soft shell of her ear.

 

“I love your exhibitionist side. I love watching you come undone. Whether it’s me watching you get off or me getting you off while Cole watches…”

 

She shivers and her teeth dig harder into her lip. “ _Deacon_.” Her whisper is a harsh pant and it takes everything in him to let her go, to put some distance between them. He has to or he’s going to break every rule they set into play and kiss her right here.

 

He gives her a wink and walks away, willing the fire in his blood to move to a simmer. Her eyes follow him, dark with lust, as he retreats into the house. The air conditioning is a cold slap compared to the heat outside. Striding through the living room, he heads to the kitchen. He needs a drink. A big one. And some time in the pool. He needs a way to burn through his energy until they can slip away together at night.

 

Hannah and Jennifer are organizing the groceries they had ordered mid-flight while Jones, Whitley, and Cole watch. Ramse is nowhere to be found. Probably still exploring. Deacon hadn’t even made a dent in himself. He finds the booze and pours himself a drink.

 

He leans against the counter on his elbows. “I’m going to get in the hot tub. Anyone want to join?” He rolls the tumbler back and forth in his palms.

 

“I’m in!” Jennifer bounces.

 

Everyone else, even Jones, voices agreements. After changing into his swim trunks, Deacon grabs his tumbler from where he left it on the counter along with the bottle of bourbon, and heads to the hot tub. He finds the buttons for the jets and cues them up. The water is pleasantly warm and he settles onto the seat with a blissful sigh. Jennifer, Cole, Whitley, and Ramse are the first to arrive and get in. The men are in standard swim trunks. Jennifer is wearing a bikini, looking adorable as ever. Cassie, Jones, and Hannah join a few minutes later. Katarina is wearing a tasteful one piece, Hannah is wearing a light blue tankini that matches her eyes, and Cassie…Cassie is temptation personified. Her bikini is small and red, with multiple tiny straps that stretch across both hips. The top straps come down over the tops of her breasts in a triangle shape while the material covers pretty much just above the nipple and down.

 

Is she trying to kill him? He looks to Cole as Cassie makes her way into the hot tub, sitting between them. Cole smirks at him, his brown eyes glinting. They had to have planned this. Deacon is going to make them pay for it later.

 

He closes his eyes and tilts his face back towards the sun. When Deacon opens them, he notices the looks from Hannah, from Katarina. Ramse and Whitley aren’t staring but it’s clear they all noticed his scars. The pity in their eyes is the giveaway. He fights back a sigh.

 

“Okay, out with it.” He rumbles, grabbing his tumbler and taking a long drink.

 

“Why do you still have your scars?” Hannah’s voice is gentle.

 

“Because, though we saved the world, there was no saving me from my father.” Deacon exhales heavily, “Somethings Time couldn’t erase.”  

 

Ramse’s throat works, adams apple bobbing as he swallows. “Did he…your dad?” The words hang in the air between them. Deacon remembers the other man’s words from the other timeline all too well. Remembers how deep the anger burned as Ramse tossed that memory in his face like a grenade. _You know, I think your Daddy would’ve gone all the way. He would’ve killed your mom right there if the cops hadn’t come. You should thank me for calling them…_

“Yeah.” Just one word makes his throat feel thick, “He killed her. When I tried to save her, he tried to kill me too.”

 

Ramse breaks his gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there this time.”

 

Deacon sighs. “You couldn’t have saved her any more than I could have.” He lifts his drink and downs it, pouring himself another from the bottle, “My father is locked up in Rikers for the rest of his miserable life and my life is…good; well, now it is, anyways.” He lifts the full tumbler in the direction of Ramse, Hannah, Katarina, and Whitley, “That’s all I’m saying on the subject. This is Jennifer’s weekend. Not time to rehash my tragic early childhood.” He downs half the bourbon in one gulp.

 

Jennifer slides closer, leaning into his side, and lifts the glass from his fingers, finishing the rest. “Did you notice?”

 

“Notice what, Peaches?”

 

In a quick movement, she stands on the bench seat. Water slides down her body and his lifts his head so he can actually see her face instead of staring at her crotch. 

 

“Nice topic change. What am I missing?” He asks, not getting what she’s trying to show him at all.

 

“My bikini.” She rolls her eyes.

 

He takes in the top; the triangles have a purple shell design and his gaze falls to the bottoms and he starts laughing as he notices the shimmery scales on the fabric. “You really are a mermaid!”

 

Her grin is wide and a little wild. “Thought you’d approve!”

 

He reaches up and curls his hand around her wrist, giving her a gentle tug back down. Jennifer takes it as an opportunity to plunk herself into his lap. Her skin is cold against his and he shivers, goosebumps rising across his skin.

 

“Are you two together?” Ramse asks, eyeing them.

 

“Oh, Christ, no.” Deacon says at the same Jennifer says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

Deacon’s eyes meet her dark ones and they burst out laughing. She hugs him and rests her forehead against the side of his neck.

 

“Coulda fooled me.” Ramse observes.

 

“Nah, we’re just affectionate.” Jennifer chuckles, “I’m this way with everyone, if it’s cool with them. I’ve even spooned with Cassie on a few occasions.”

 

“Just last month or so?” Cassie grins.

 

“It was our sleepover at Deacon’s.” Jennifer’s dark eyes gleam with evil intent. “That reminds me…I think I have Scrabble somewhere in the house.”

 

Deacon groans. “I will never play that game with you two again. I will always lobby for Uno.”

 

“Why are you punishing us?” Jennifer pouted.

 

He can’t resist teasing her. “Peaches, if you want to see me naked again, just ask.” Deacon laughs as she makes a face.

 

“You know this doesn’t help convince me you’re not together.” Ramse quips.

 

After sharing a look, Deacon and Jennifer give him the middle finger salute and go back to cuddling.

 

“What the hell kind of game of Scrabble were you playing?” Whitley asks, amusement in his voice.

 

“The Strip variety.” Jennifer cackles, “We didn’t have cards for poker.”

 

“Word of advice, never go up against a PhD and a MD. They’re vicious.” Deacon grins and relaxes back further against the side, closing his eyes as he angles his face towards the warmth of the sun.

 

Jennifer stays on his lap, settling into using him as a pillow. The bourbon plus the hot tub makes for a helluva relaxation elixir and he listens to the idle chatter of the others as he basks in the sunlight.  They plan dinner for tonight: taco bar. Breakfast for the next morning is covered: Deacon is making waffles, per Jennifer’s enthusiastic birthday request. Lunch and dinner will be out on one of the islands as she wishes as well. It’s her day and he’s happy to go along with whatever she wants.

 

After an hour, or two, Deacon’s not quite sure how long he’s been in the hot tub, but he knows he needs a cool down. He scoots Jennifer out of his lap and hefts his ass up onto the ledge that leads into the pool. Dipping his hand into the water, Deacon finds it refreshingly cold. With a devious grin, he holds his hand over Cassie’s shoulder. She lets out a little squeal and she gives him a shove. He uses the leverage to fall over the edge and into the pool. The temperature is a bit jarring at first; it helps sober him up a touch. His body gradually warms as he does a lap into the other side, going under the bridge. That was cool and echo-y and secluded enough that he might try to steal a kiss if Cassie or Cole were to join him. On the opposite side of the pool, he climbs out and grabs a towel from a stack that’s sitting on a chair.

 

Drying off quickly, he heads back into the house in search of water and food. All he’s had today was coffee and bourbon. While it makes for a great start to his vacation, he doesn’t want to spend the entire time trashed.  Hannah is in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water from a pitcher.

 

“Can you pour me one too?” He asks as he sits down on one of the stools on the opposite side of the island in the middle of the kitchen.

 

She does and hands it to him with a smile. He takes a few gulps. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem.” Her big blue eyes study him, “So do you love James?”

 

Deacon forgets how to swallow and nearly chokes on the last of the water. “Do I what now?”

 

Her smile is radiant, amusement crinkles the corners of her eyes. “Do you love James?” She repeats.

 

“How did you…”

 

Hannah rounds the counter and stands beside him. “He and I talk, you know. Every day. He talks about Cassandra, about Jennifer, about you.”

 

“So, he talks about me. We’re friends.” Deacon tries to keep his tone light.

 

“It’s the way he talks of you, Deacon.” He notices Hannah’s voice is slightly accented in this timeline. There’s a touch of German in her undertone; maybe because she’s speaking with affection, “His voice holds the same love as it does when he speaks of Cassandra.”

 

His throat tightens a bit and he swallows, trying to work it out. “He does?”

 

She makes a quiet noise of affirmation. “So, I’m wondering if you love him as well.”

 

“I do.” Deacon admits. Saying it out loud makes his heart pound; especially this seriously, to someone other than himself.

 

Hannah slowly reaches up, touches his face. Soft fingertips trace along where the scar she gave him in the other timeline used to be. “I’m happy for you three. It’s obvious you have something. I noticed it that night at your apartment.”

 

“We’re trying to keep it quiet.” Deacon tells her, “I don’t think Ramse would approve and this weekend is all about Jennifer.”

 

She nods. “I understand.”

 

“I take it if you noticed, so did your mother.”

 

“She did. She and I have spoke of it.”

 

“And?” He meets her eyes, searching for anything positive.

 

He finds it. Her eyes are soft. “Does our approval, anyone’s approval really matter in the end? It’s your life, theirs. If you’re all happy, who are we to stop you?” Her hand moves to his cheek and she pats it twice, “Just don’t hurt my boy.”

 

Deacon catches her hand, gives it a squeeze, placing it over his heart. “I won’t.”  He promises.

 

She smiles but her teeth glint like a warning, all traces of gentleness gone. “I will hurt you if you do.”

 

A chuckle leaves his throat. “I would expect nothing less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	12. Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: sexual content

Cassie and Cole are sound asleep. Cassie is on the right side of the bed, tucked against Cole’s back while Cole is in the middle. Deacon’s limbs are entwined with his; their legs entangled and Cole’s arm slung across Deacon’s chest. The sleep slack weight is comforting but does nothing to help Deacon sleep. His eyes burn with exhaustion; when he blinks, it feels something akin to glass shards shredding his eyeballs. Cassie and Cole had gone to bed around midnight and he joined them a half hour later, it was as much time as he could patiently wait. After joining them, they were up until close to two, lost in a tangled haze of pleasure. But while they fell asleep in the post-coital bliss, Deacon remained awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to their even breathing. The small digital alarm clock on night stand to his left reads 4:30am. Fuck. Another night gone.

 

 _Fuck it._ Deacon carefully disengages himself from Cole and slips out of bed. He finds his discarded boxers and slips them on. With a last look at his lovers, he quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Going into his room, he rifles through his duffle and pulls out a pair of work out shorts and pulls them up his legs. He looks around for Amadeus and is surprised his dog isn’t in the room at all. Not even in the spacious bathtub in the adjacent bathroom. _Probably with Peaches._ His pup loves to cuddle up with Jennifer whenever he can.

 

Downstairs, he crosses into the other wing of the house. One of the spacious rooms is set up like a gym. It’s as well equipped as the one he frequents at home. After starting with a simple warm up routine, Deacon moves onto the treadmill. He’s three miles in when he notices Whitley enter the room. He offers him a brisk nod.

 

“Hey.” Deacon puffs out, not breaking stride. He’s trying to beat his best time and he’s close.

 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Whitley asks.

 

Deacon shook his head. “Nope. Figured I could get some exercise in before I start making breakfast.”

 

“What’s next in routine?”

 

“Weights.” As the display reads 6 miles, he glances at the time and is pleased to see he’s beat his record. He gives the cool down button a jab and slows his pace.

 

“Want a partner?”

 

“Sure.” Deacon hits the stop button and the machine halts. Grabbing up his towel from the hand rail, he wipes the sweat his face, his hairline, and climbs down.

 

They take turns spotting one another and talk about what they’ve been up to. Whitley owns his own private security company. He’s pretty much there all the time; admittedly a workaholic. Deacon smiles; it’s like him with his bar. They had gotten close in the other timeline and Deacon realizes he’s missed the comradery. They plan to continue to work out together once they get back to New York, hang out when they can.

 

When they’re done, they go their separate ways to shower and dress. Deacon throws on a pair of khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt that Jennifer had gotten him a few years back after discovering his talent for breakfast foods. It has little cutesy cartoony pictures of a donut, bacon, eggs, waffles, and a coffee mug with the words “The Breakfast Club” written on it. It was the first Christmas gift she’d given him.

 

A quick glance at his phone tells him its now nearly seven. The plan was to have breakfast by eight. His timing is coming along well. Tucking his phone in his pocket, he heads to the kitchen. Whitley isn’t down yet so it’s just him in the huge space. It’s outfitted damn near professionally and he wishes his place back home had the same set up. Maybe in the next place; their place. A smile curls his lips and he starts to his task. He finds the waffle maker and pulls out a cast iron griddle that can be fit across the gas range stove. Pulling out some cookie sheets, he lines them with foil in preparation for baking a few pounds of bacon.

 

By the time Whitley appears, the air is heavy with the smell of brewing coffee and Deacon is readying mix-in ingredients for the waffles in their own separate bowls.

 

“Damn, you don’t mess around.” Whitley chuckles in approval as he pours himself a cup.

 

“Not when it comes to Jennifer’s birthday wishes.” Deacon grins.

 

“Need any help?”

 

Deacon shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks.” There’s not much left to do. He’s going to pop the bacon in the oven in a few, he’s got to whip up the batter for the waffles, and then as another birthday treat he’s going to make fresh peach puree for bellinis. They had been Jennifer’s drink of choice until his West VII brew came to be.

 

As he finishes up his last tasks, the birthday girl appears with the Jones’ in tow. Bellini in hand, he greets Jennifer with a bear hug, lifting her off her feet with his free arm and dropping a loud smacking kiss to her cheek. “Happy Birthday, Peaches!”

 

She lets out a squeal. “Thank you, Deeks.”

 

He sets her down and hands her the drink. She takes a sip and lets out a sound of delight. “Man, I forgot how good these were.”

 

“I aim to please.” He rounds back around to the oven and takes out the bacon. After transferring the piles of meaty salty goodness to a plate topped with paper towel to absorb the remaining oil, he turns to Jennifer, who’s seated next to Whitley, “What kind can I make you first?”

 

“Sprinkles!”

 

“Two or four?”

 

“Two, please.” She trills and polishes off her bellini.

 

“What kind do you want, Whit?” Deacon asks.

 

Whitley eyes the choices. “I’ll go with pecan and bacon.”

 

A laugh burst from Deacon’s lips. “Damn, that’s a good combination!”

 

“I’ve never had it before but I have faith in your skills.”

 

“I’m honored.” Deacon chuckles and pours in just enough batter into the waffle maker to create a base, then he adds their mix ins and tops it with more batter. He closes the lid and lets the machine do its thing.

 

While they cook, he gets Jennifer another bellini, pours Hannah one, and gets Whit and Katarina coffee. He catches her watching him, something close to a fond smile on her lips.

 

“What?” He asks her as the machine goes off and he pulls out the perfectly golden Belgian waffles.

 

“I like seeing you like this is all.” She takes a sip of coffee.

 

Plating the up, he gives the others their food. “Domesticated?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Joneses, what can I make for you?” He asks.

 

“Chocolate chip for me.” Hannah grins.

  
Katarina studies the choices with all the careful consideration he used to see her pour over her notes. “I’ll take chocolate chips and pecans.”

 

“Two each?”

 

She chuckles. “I don’t think any of us can pack away four.”

 

“Cole can.” Deacon chuckles.

 

“Ah, yes.” Katarina demurs, “Still eats like he’s never going to eat another meal.”

 

“Give it a few years.” Jennifer replies, swallowing down a mouthful of bacon.

 

“Give what a few years?” Cole’s voice reaches them as he and Ramse join them.

 

“For you not to eat like a beast.” Deacon softens the topic with wink. He sees Cole’s soft smile out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out the Jones’ waffles.

 

The teasing continues as Deacon continues to make breakfast. Cassie arrives, looking sleepy. She’s dressed in a tank top and soft cotton shorts. Her hair is in loose waves down her back. She greets Jennifer with a hug and kiss on the cheek and rounds the counter. She watches him prep for waffles for Cole and fill a plate small plate with a pile of bacon. He hands it off to Cole and grabs three coffee mugs, filling them up and passing them to Cole and Ramse. The third mug sits on the counter as Cassie blinks sleepily at it, not making any move to fix it to her liking.  After filling Katarina and Whitley’s mugs with the remainder of the pot, he starts another pot to brew.

 

Returning to the waffle machine, he absently slides his arm around Cassie’s waist and pulls her into a side hug. “What can I make you?”

 

“I’ll just have mine plain.” She murmurs and yawns, tucking her head onto his shoulder, “Did you eat yet?”

 

“No, not yet. Just had some coffee.”

 

She pokes him in the stomach. “You need to eat too, you know.”

 

“I know.” He notices Ramse watching them, gaze focused, and he casually disengages from her, pulling out Cole’s waffles from the machine. Cassie pads away and out of sight. Deacon plates the waffles and passes them, catching Ramse’s eyes, “What kind do you want?”

 

“Surprise me.” Ramse chuckles.

 

Deacon takes that as a challenge and loads Ramse’s with sprinkles, chocolate chips, and pecans. Per her request, he leaves Cassie’s plain. “If anyone is still hungry, I can whip up eggs or something.”

 

“I’m quite full, thank you.” Katarina lifts her mug with a smile.

 

“I’m good.” Whitley echoes.

 

Hannah just shakes her head, her mouth working on a bite of waffle.

 

“Peaches?” Deacon asks.

 

“I’ll take another two.” She lets out a little hiccup, “I need to soak up some of this prosecco.”

 

He laughs. “What kind?”

 

“I like the mix you made for Ramse. Add a little whipped cream and a cherry on top and it’s practically a sundae!”

 

“I could make some…” He saw some heavy cream in the fridge.

 

“No, no, no.” She tuts, “That’s too much work just for me.”

 

“No, it’s not. It’s your birthday.” Though, he would do it for her anytime she wished, “And it’s as easy as putting cream in a stand mixer and adding vanilla and sugar and whipping until fluffy.”

 

Her eyes are soft. “You’re too good to me.”

 

He shakes his head, busying himself in serving the next waffles. “Nah.”

 

The denial is easy. But food is one of his love languages; it’s how he shows he cares. Knowing Jennifer, she’s figured that out by now. Cassie reappears and brandishes his medicine case, setting it on the counter. He nods at her, murmuring a quiet thanks. He plucks up a piece of bacon and eats it in a few bites. He preps Jennifer’s next waffles and throws in two for himself.

 

He replenishes drinks in the meantime. The bacon on its own won’t be enough to counteract the nausea the meds can create but if he takes them now and has the waffles, it should be enough that he won’t feel like hell later. He pours himself a bellini because he’s made the mistake of taking his pills with coffee before. They dissolved fast and made for a flavor that could only be called vile. Palming his pills, he slaps the into his mouth and downs them with the sweet, fizzy drink.

 

“Should you be taking all that with alcohol?” Whitley asks.

 

There’s genuine concern in his dark eyes and though touched, Deacon lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “Hasn’t stopped me yet.”

 

Cassie sighs over her waffles. He can practically see her biting her tongue, the doctor side of her wanting to lecture him about it. Again.

 

He gives Jennifer her sundae waffles and plates his. There’s not enough seats on the other side of the counter so he just eats them leaning against the opposite counter. His first bite takes him back to his grandmother’s kitchen and her carefully explaining how to make them, giving him something to focus on; taking him away from the maelstrom of emotions that plague him. She taught him how to cook, enrolled him in ballroom dancing lessons—despite his protests, he grew to love those lessons as much as cooking, whatever caught his interest, she made sure he tried it. Gave him all the outlets he needed to help him cope outside of therapy. His heart squeezes sharply; he misses her still. He’d have to go visit her grave after he got home.

 

Amadeus appears and head butts his head against Deacon’s legs. Deacon chuckles and scuffs up his ears. “There you are, you lazy beast.”

 

Amadeus boofs and pads over to his water dish, taking a long drink.

 

“So now that we’re all filled with carbs, I say we all go to the beach to sleep it off.” Jennifer declares, cleaning syrup off her lips with a sweep of her tongue.

 

“That sounds amazing.” Hannah agrees.

 

Jennifer holds up a finger. “Deacon, no touching any of these dishes. I have staff for that.”

 

Deacon pauses. He hasn’t seen anyone else since they arrived. “You do?”

 

“Of course. This is your time off too.”

 

He opens his mouth to reply but instead, a yawn erupts. Fuck. Now that he’s slowed down, exhaustion is catching up to him. Jennifer zeros in on him.

 

“Did you not sleep again?”

 

He crosses his arms across his chest, shrugs.

 

“No.” Whitley answers for him.

 

“You should stay here and try to catch up on sleep.” She advises.

 

“I want to be with you, Peaches, it’s your birthday.”

 

“You know as well as I do, you’re not going to sleep on the beach with that many people around.” She climbs down and joins him, “That can be your birthday gift to me. Stay here and sleep.”

 

He offers her a wan smile. “I have something else for you though.”

 

“I told you no gifts.” She waggles a finger at him.

 

“Like I’m not going to try to spoil you.” He replies.

 

“Softy.” She murmurs, throwing her arms around him and colliding into him with enough force that his back bumps the counter.

 

Chuckling, he hugs her back. “Fine, I’ll stay here but only because you insist.”

 

 

 

 

 

Within an hour, the others are heading out to the beach, including Amadeus. Upstairs, Deacon stands between the two bedrooms, weighing his options. He should sleep in his solo room. Should. But it would be cold, lonely. Sleeping alone isn’t as easy as it once was. He wants to be surrounded by the comfort of his lovers’ scents and he gives in, choosing their room. He strips and crawls into bed. Though he’s on his usual side, he rolls onto his side and grabs the closest pillow, pulling it to his chest. It smells like Cassie, the sweetness of her shampoo. Closing his eyes, he breathes it in, trying to relax enough to let sleep take him.

 

Tries is the key word. His body is fighting sleep, instead choosing to remind him of ever lurid fantasy he’s been cooking up since they arrived. His cock grows hard and it’s making it hard to focus on anything else. He could get off. But that just doesn’t seem as fun without Cassie and Cole around. A sigh leaves his lips and he rolls onto his back, irritation cutting through some of the rising lust. There’s a soft noise as the bedroom doorknob turns and Cassie tiptoes inside, carefully closing the door almost all the way.

 

She’s wearing a different bikini. This one is purple and has cute little skirt bottom and halter top. Her hair is off her neck in a messy bun. When their eyes meet, her beautiful green eyes fill with concern.

 

“You’re still awake?” Her voice is low as she abandons whatever she came in the room for.

 

“Yeah.”

 

She sits on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”

 

He shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Her lips curve upward and the concern melts into something else. “Well, you have an erection and that’s your normal setting when in bed so.”

 

He laughs. “I miss you, miss Cole.”

 

Cassie nods and her hands pull down the covers, exposing his body to her gaze. He curls an arm under his head and watches her looking at him. His cock flexes and she makes a soft noise. It’s half a groan, half a whimper, and all together a sound he needs to hear again immediately.

 

“Turn around.” He murmurs.

 

She does and he sits up, pulling on the knot secured at her neck, then at the one across her back. Her top falls away and she discards it to the floor. Climbing to her feet, she slides the bottoms down. Christ, she’s stunning. His hands ache to touch her all over and he gives in. Sliding his hand around the curve of her waist, he pulls her onto the bed until she straddles his lap. All she has to do is sink down and she’d be impaled on his cock. Just a few short inches until bliss. He fights the urge to pull her down onto him, instead his hand travels down between her legs, wanting to make sure she’s ready for him.

 

“Fuck, Cassie.” He groans when he finds her already wet, his fingers sliding easily between her folds.

 

“I miss you too.” She murmurs, eyes drifting shut as she rolls her hips, rubbing herself against his fingers until her breath catches.

 

“How do you want me?” He asks.

 

“I could ask the same.” She counters, eyes fluttering open.

 

Deacon growls softly, buries two fingers inside of her easily, curling them until he finds her g-spot. She gasps sharply, the sound trailing off into a moan.

 

“Fuck.” She whimpers.

 

“How do you want me?” He repeats.

 

“Ideally, I want you in my pussy.” She purrs. His cock flexes at the sound of her dirty talk, “Ideally, I’d love Cole inside me too.”

 

He curses under his breath. “Where do you want him, Cassandra.” His other hand trails up into her hair and gently tugs while he works his fingers in and out of her, “If I’m in your pussy, where do you want his cock inside of you? Your ass? Your mouth? Or do you want him in your pussy too? Do you want to feel us both?”

 

Cassie’s answer is lost, the words come out a strangled noise as she comes around his fingers. “Both.” She grounds out when she finds her voice, “Both.”

 

 _Fuck yes_. His cock is so hard it fucking hurts. Desire pounds with the beat of his heart; his pulse in his ears is all he can hear. “Get on all fours.” He tells her as he pulls out his fingers.

 

As she moves into position, he takes his slick fingers and slides them down his sensitive cock. He takes her in for a second, all glistening and ready for him, before he buries himself deep inside of her. They both groan and he blankets himself over her back, his hands coming around to the tops of hers, giving her a moment to adjust. His heart is pounding hard and he enjoys the sweetness of her walls gripping his cock.

 

“Fuck me.” She breathes, pushing back against him as best she can, “Now.”

 

Deacon doesn’t acknowledge her command with words. He straightens and grips her hips, blunt nails digging into her skin. Pulling his cock almost all the way out of her, he surges his hips forward, plunging deep into her again. She lets out a little cry, followed by a deep moan.

 

“Yes?” He asks, his thumbs stroking the small of her back.

 

“God _yes._ ” She pants, “Hard. Rough. _Please_.”

 

That’s all he needs to hear. He gives her exactly what she wants. As his hips slam against her ass, he releases her right hip and slides his hand until it’s in the soft strands of her hair again. He draws them around his fist and pulls carefully until her head lifts from its bowed state. Her moan is a helpless sound and her walls grip his cock tight. Fuck. It’s almost enough to make him come right then. But he fights the urge and continues to pound into her. Then he hears her gasp, but it’s not one of delight. It sounds wrong with what they’re doing and his hips falter. He’s about to ask what’s wrong but as the haze of lust lifts, he sees exactly what made her gasp and everything stops.

 

They have an audience.

 

But it’s not Cole.

 

Ramse is frozen in the doorway, his hand gripping the doorknob so hard his knuckles are blanched.

 

His dark eyes are burning with fury.

 

“Shit.” Deacon mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated ^_^


	13. Polyamorous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Whew, boy. This is just about one of the smuttiest chapters I've ever written. Very dirty sex scene contained ahead!

Deacon hastily grabs the other half of the comforter, pulling it over Cassie enough to hide her nakedness. He pulls out of her as his cock softens; he couldn’t give two fucks about his nakedness.

 

Against his legs, he can feel Cassie trembling. He’s not sure if it’s aftershocks, adrenaline, or fear. Deacon settles his hand on her hip and strokes her skin, trying to offer silent comfort. Then he looks up at Ramse and says the one thing he can think of.

 

“It’s not what you think.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Ramse demands, his deep voice laced with so much agitation that the words are nearly a growl, “Are you fucking kidding? It looks like your fucking Cole’s woman. Again.”

 

Deacon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She wasn’t his woman the first time I had sex with her.”

 

“Really, that’s the point you’re going to argue?” Cassie mutters, glancing over her shoulder at him.

 

Her voice makes Ramse blink and his focus turns on her. “Cassie, what the fuck? How could you do this?”

 

“It’s not what you think.” She replies, echoing Deacon’s words.

 

Shaking his head, Ramse pulls out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.

 

“What are you doing?” Deacon asks.

 

“Getting Cole the hell back here. So you can tell him why you were balls deep in his girlfriend.” He snaps.

 

Pulling the covers around her, Cassie sits up and leans against Deacon. “Go ahead.” There’s something close to defiance in her voice. Her body feels wooden against him; stiff and unyielding.  He wraps an arm around her hips and absently rubs her abdomen through the soft blanket. Slowly, the tension leaves Cassie’s body but he feels like he absorbed it; his muscles are tight and his heart is pounding against his ribs like it’s trying to break free. On the outside, he keeps his expression as passive as he can manage.

 

Ramse’s hands tighten into fists and while Deacon doesn’t think the other man will actually lash out with Cassie tucked into him, the threat of violence builds in the air. It’s heavy and smothering and Deacon’s stomach rocks uneasily.

 

_Bark! Bark! Bark! Bark!_

 

Any further confrontation is cut off at the sound of Amadeus’ barks. They’re loud and getting louder, the noise striking Deacon. He’s never heard his dog bark like that before. The sound of Amadeus’ tags clinking together announce his presence before he appears behind Ramse. Then Amadeus lets out a growl. It’s quiet but carries and makes the hair on Deacon’s arm stand up. Amadeus is defending him. Ramse looks at him then back to Deacon.

 

“He going to attack me?” His tone is wary.

 

Deacon shrugs. “I’ve honestly never seen him like this.” But he also knows his dog. Knows that Amadeus wouldn’t make a move unless he wanted him to. Amadeus’ has had that instinct in him from the start.

 

Footsteps on the stairs reach Deacon’s ears and he fights a groan. There’s too much noise for it to be just one person. Shit. Shit. Shit. First thing’s first, Deacon needs to make sure Amadeus calms down. He licks his lips and lets out a quick, sharp whistle; one he uses to call him with. Amadeus relaxes and obeys, passing Ramse to sit next to the bed. The lab looks up at Deacon and makes a soft whine of concern. Deacon reaches over and scratches his head, murmuring quiet reassurance.

 

As he suspected, when Cole appears, he’s not alone. Everyone is with him. Deacon sighs; literally the last thing he wants right now: an audience. Especially one that includes Cole’s family. Cole takes them in and rakes a hand through his hair, blows out a breath.

 

“You busted them, huh?” He asks Ramse, his voice nonchalant.

 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Ramse’s brows knit together, “Aren’t you pissed?”

 

“Honestly, no.”

 

The answer makes Ramse’s spine go straighter. “What? Why?”

 

“We didn’t want to bring this up this weekend but we’re all together.” Cole answers, crossing the room and sitting on the end of the bed, fixing Ramse with a look.

 

“All…together?”

 

“Uh-huh. The term is polyamorous.”

 

Ramse stares at him. “Polyamorous?”

 

“Yes. The three of us.”

 

“Meaning you and Deacon are…together too?”

 

“Yeah.” Cole smiles.

 

The man’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he can settle on a confused: “…the fuck?”

 

Jennifer sort of laughs but hides it like she’s clearing her throat. “I think you broke Ramse.”

 

Ramse whirls to look at Jennifer. “Did you know about them?”

 

“I’m currently not agog with scandal, what do you think?” She crosses her arms across her chest, fixing him with a bored look.

 

“Am I the only one in the dark?” He demands, surveying the group.

 

Whitley shakes his head. “I didn’t know. But I’m also not surprised. It actually makes sense to me.”

 

 “Why not be honest in the first place, brother?” Ramse’s mouth flattens until it’s nearly a straight line.

 

“Because of this reaction.” Cole replies, sighing again, scratches his beard, “I knew you’d have a hard time trusting Deacon and seeing us together would bother you. I wanted you to get to know him, this him, before I told you.”

 

“It’s not a horrible thing, Mr. Ramse.” Katarina adds, “They’re happy. They’re loved. That’s what matters.”

 

“Now I suggest we leave.” Hannah’s voice is firm yet gentle and Deacon can’t help his smile; she teaches in this timeline and he’s certain this is the voice she uses on her students when she wants to corral them into doing something other than whatever they are, “I’m ready to go back to the beach.”

 

“Me too.” Jennifer links her arm through Hannah’s and offers them a little wave of her fingers before they disappear from view.

 

Whitley and Jones follow after them, while Ramse remains. Deacon wraps his arms around Cassie, letting his chin rest on the top of her head. The heavy presence of anger remains but the violent edge to it dissipates as Ramse’s fist uncurls. Deacon takes a deeper breath and Cassie gives him a squeeze. Amadeus’ wet nose collides with his palm and Deacon scratches his ears absently. He doesn’t take his eyes of Ramse, mostly out of caution. He may be naked, but he’s still fight him if he had to. Deacon really hopes it doesn’t come down to that.

 

“Was Jones right, brother?” Ramse asks when he finally breaks the silence, “Are you happy? Are you loved?”

 

“I am.” Cole answers both questions, “More so than I ever thought possible.”

 

He nods. “Good. This is going to take a bit for me to get used to.” He jabs a finger in Deacon’s direction, “You and I are going to have to talk.”

 

“Not this weekend.” Deacon acknowledges, “This weekend is Jennifer’s. You owe her an apology, by the way. This was the exactly opposite of what I wanted for her.”

 

“Okay.” The fight, the anger leaves him completely and his shoulder sag, “I’ll see you back at the beach.”

 

Then he’s gone with a soft slam of the door and Cole flops back on the bed. “Well. That happened.”

 

“You guys got here fast.” Deacon observes.

 

“It was because of Amadeus.” Cole rises up onto his elbow and turns his body towards them, “All of a sudden he got really alert and wouldn’t stop barking in the direction of the house. We knew something was up so we headed back. Then I got the text from Ramse when we reached the house.”

 

Deacon’s gaze shifts down to Amadeus. “You’re a good boy. You get double treats tonight.”

 

His tail wags in response and he pants at the mention of the word, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. In the quiet, Deacon exhales heavily. The exhaustion beats at him now that the tension has faded; both mental and physical. Cassie strokes his chest, presses her lips to the underside of his chin.

 

“Think you’re ready to sleep now?” She questions.

 

“Probably.” He settles down onto the pillow and extends his other hand to Cole. When Cole’s palm clasps his, Deacon tugs him up until Cole’s resting on his other side. “Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

 

“Of course.” Cole’s voice is soft.

 

It takes some time but Deacon sleeps for a few hours. It’s enough to make him feel less fatigued but he knows it’s not enough to make up for all he’s lost over the last three days. After getting out of the empty bed, he takes a quick shower and joins the others. The rest of the day moves on in a blur of fun. Ramse’s not being a jerk and now that they’re not hiding their relationship, Deacon finds himself truly at ease. He’s still respectful of the present company and keeps his touches and kisses simple, chaste.

 

Tonight, when they fall into bed, however, he has dirty, dirty plans.

 

They snorkel. Shop. Eat. Karaoke. Whatever Jennifer wants, they make happen. They wrap up the day watching the sunset at the beach behind the house. Deacon hands her the present that he’s been working on with Maddox for months. It’s a peach flavored IPA. The label Deacon designed reads its current working name: Peach is Primary. It’s just one bottle since it is in its test phase, with a yellow bow on top.

 

“If you like it, we’re going to start carrying it at the bar.” He informs her, “If you don’t, we’ll go back and work on it until it’s just right.”

 

It’s not a twist top so he removes the bow and sticks it on top of her hair. She lets out a huffing laugh that makes it jiggle precariously while Deacon uses a quarter to open the bottle, seeing as he doesn’t have his keys on him and he’s not wearing a belt. Her eyes are dancing with mirth as he hands it back to her. Anticipation builds as he watches Jennifer take a cautious sip. Then she takes another, longer one.

 

“Your thoughts?”  He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

 

Her laugh is that wild one she has, it bursts from her gut and spills off her tongue with exuberance, carrying into her voice. “I fucking love it!” She pulls him into a hug, “And I love the name. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

 

He lifts her off the ground. “You’re welcome.”

 

As the sun disappears into the horizon, they build a bon fire. There’s s’more, booze, and stargazing under the night sky. There’s so many stars over the ocean, it’s almost dizzying. Deacon leans against a piece of driftwood, reclining back enough that he can study the constellations above him. Lifting his glass, he slowly nurses his insanely expensive bourbon, thanks to whoever stocked the bar in the house. A small grunt escapes his throat as Cole settles against him, his back colliding with Deacon’s chest. Switching his glass to this other hand, Deacon slides his arm around Cole’s waist.

 

“Our beautiful Cassandra was building an incredible fantasy for me earlier.” Deacon keeps his voice low, lips grazing the shell of Cole’s ear.

 

“Oh?” He can hear the smile in Cole’s voice.

 

“She wants us both inside of her. I think we can make that happen for her. Don’t you agree?”

 

Cole angles his face towards his. The light and shadow that play across his features highlight his eyes, so filled with desire they’re almost glowing. He nods slowly. “Yeah.” His voice is a quiet drawl.

 

A smile curves Deacon’s lips and he chuckles softly. “I’m ready for bed.”

 

“We’ll head up in a little bit.” Cole murmurs, “Try to make it not so obvious.”

 

With a nod, Deacon eases out of their embrace and rises to his feet. He lifts his glass to Jennifer. “I’m off to bed, birthday girl. I’m beat.”

 

She raises her cup as well; he’d made her something close to a rum punch and it sloshes over the edge of the plastic cup. “Get some rest, Deeks. Some real rest this time.”

 

“I’m going to fucking try.” He drawls and polishes off his bourbon. He will. After he’s had his filthy fun, “Amadeus,” the dog lifts his head at the sound of his name, “Take care of Peaches.” Amadeus’ response is to rest his head on Jennifer’s thigh and moon up at her with big eyes. Deacon takes that as a yes. To everyone else, he says a quick good-night and departs.

 

In their room, he showers the sweat and sand off his body. His skin radiates extra heat after being in the sun all evening as he towels off. When he walks into the bedroom, he’s greeted by Cassie and Cole already on the bed. A chuckle escapes his lips.

 

“I didn’t expect to see you both so soon.” He states, tossing the towel back into the bathroom.

 

Cole offers a one shouldered shrug. “Someone got impatient.”

 

Cassie smiles. “I would apologize but I’m not sorry at all.”

 

Deacon’s gaze drifts over to the door. It’s shut—all the way this time and the lock is thrown. At least they won’t be interrupted this time. He notices his bag is near the door and is grateful. Now he doesn’t have to go get it—specifically all the supplies they’ll need for tonight. He crouches and unzips the bag, pulling out a bottle of lube and condoms, and gets to his feet.

 

Cassie’s eyes are watching him intently when he sets the stuff down on the nightstand. “Where do we start?” Her voice is quiet, husky.

 

He touches her face, trailing his fingertips down her cheek, coming to a stop under her chin. “First, you and Cole get naked. Second, you both get in the shower. Third, he gets you ready…”

 

Her hands find his skin, trailing up from the v of his hips, up to settle on his chest. She rises with the motion, her hands sliding up around his neck. “And where are you going to be? In here alone?” Her brows furrow and she looks so concerned he can’t help but laugh.

 

“Oh, sweetness, I’m going to be watching.” He assures her, pressing his lips against her forehead, specifically, the wrinkle between her brows.  

 

She relaxes and he busies his hands with undressing her. Stripped of her clothes, he presses her closer. Her soft, cool skin provides a refreshing contrast to the warmth of his and he sighs. Over her shoulder, he watches Cole strip and his heart begins to race. They move into the bathroom, climb into the ridiculously large shower stall. There’s a seat in the upper left corner and Deacon settles onto it, reclining until his back rests against the tiles. Cole starts up the shower, the water falling from the shower head in the middle of the stall. Cassie is under the spray, the water sliding down her perfect body. Her hands make their way up into her hair, flipping it back over her shoulders.

 

He’s not the only one enthralled by her; Cole is watching her too. She notices their stares and smiles, holding out her hands. Cole moves into her arms, his arms sliding around her waist. His smile is soft when he leans in for a kiss. The sight ignited his blood; he was such a fucking lucky bastard to have them both. Cole’s hand slides down her body, brushing the apex between her thighs. Cassie gasps and Deacon’s heart beats a little faster.

 

“Turn her towards me.” The words tumble out before Deacon even realizes he’s speaking.

 

Cole chuckles and meets his eyes, “I think I have a better idea.”

 

Deacon grins. “Lay it on me.”

 

“Funny you should say that.”

 

Cole navigates Cassie over to Deacon and turns her around so her back is against Deacon’s chest when she settles onto his lap. Cole drapes her legs over the outside of Deacon’s. He follows Cole’s plan and spreads his legs wider. It opens Cassie up to Cole’s hungry eyes. Cole leans over them, bringing his lips to crash onto Deacon’s while Cassie lets out a soft noise. Part whine, part moan. Between Cole’s mouth and Cassie’s soft body writhing against his, Deacon can’t get enough.

 

A moan escapes Deacon’s mouth as Cole wraps a calloused hand around his cock and runs it along Cassie’s slick core.

 

“Fuck.” Deacon bites off, gripping Cassie’s hips, needing to hold onto something.

 

Cole rubs the head of Deacon’s cock back and forth over Cassie’s clit and Cassie’s hips buck. “I want him inside me. Now!” The urgency in her voice is close to desperate.

 

Deacon eyes squeeze shut as Cassie moves into position and Cole braces his cock at her entrance. She sinks down onto him slowly, her walls gripping tight as she takes all of him. Deacon curses, viciously and lewd when Cole hand brushes the base of his cock before they move up to Cassie’s clit. She gasps and her walls flutter around his shaft.

 

“Christ.” His mouth finds her shoulder, latches on her skin, biting gently.

 

Cassie lets out a shaky breath. Then she rolls her hips, moving up and down at a lazy pace. It’s sweet fucking torture. The best kind. Cole’s mouth finds his in a hard kiss, playing at odds with the soft way he’s stroking his balls. Deacon shivers and breaks the kiss, the need for air warring against the need to keep his mouth on Cole’s.

 

“She comes, not you.” Cole’s voice is quiet order in his ear.

 

At that moment, Cassie’s walls clench around him and a growl leaves Deacon’s throat. “Fuck you.”

 

“You love it when I’m bossy.” Cole nips the side of his neck, tongue sweeping across his skin, taking away the sting. Then he takes that mouth and slides it over to Cassie’s body.

 

Deacon watches Cole’s mouth graze along her skin, teasing her. Then he settles on his knees between their splayed legs. Cassie’s breath hitches as his mouth hovers above her clit. Then he surges forward, capturing the bundle of nerves between his lips and she lets out a scream. Her walls squeeze around Deacon’s cock like a vice and he can feel her come around him. Her wetness soaks his shaft, coats his balls, and he would love nothing more but to flex his hips and surge up, following her down into his own orgasm. But Cole told him to wait.

 

Unconsciously, he growls and Cole releases Cassie’s clit with a soft chuckle. Cassie relaxes against Deacon, all boneless and sated, panting heavily. Then Cole’s tongue flicks out, swirls along the sensitive skin of Deacon’s balls.

 

“I’m so fucking mad at your right now.” Deacon bites out, gritting his teeth.

 

Cole rises to his feet, his own erection looking painfully hard. “It’ll be worth it.”

 

Yes. It will. They move to the bedroom, grabbing two large towels out of the small linen cabinet on their way out. After blanketing the bed with the towels, they situate themselves on the bed. Cassie is on her back, Cole tucked against her left side. Deacon hovers above them both; they still have to get her ready. One orgasm won’t be enough to prepare her for them. Deacon grabs the bottle of lube and generously pours it into his palm, spreading it over her arousal swollen outer lips before he drags his finger tips to her entrance and burying two fingers inside of her.

 

She cries out as they slide home, easily sinking into her. Deacon works Cassie to a quick orgasm before he pushes in a third digit. Cole swallows her noises with kisses, drinking them down. Cole’s hands play with her tits, squeezing them, teasing her nipples until her walls are milking around Deacon’s fingers. With his free hand, Deacon grabs the bottle of lube, adding more to their skin. It’s not completely necessary, she’s soaking wet and ready but making sure she won’t be hurting is his highest priority.

 

Cassie shudders as he adds a forth. “Deacon.” She moans his name, voice thick.

 

“How you doing, baby?” He asks as he works them in and out of her, his thumb occasionally brushing over her clit.

 

“Good.” She pants, “So good. I want you both.”

 

“Almost,” he promises, “Got to make sure you can take us both. One more finger and you’ll have my whole hand.”

 

She lets out a little whimper, licks her lips. Inside her pussy, she squeezes him and it makes his cock throb. “Turns you on, huh?”

 

“Yes.” She nods, “Give me all you can so I can have you both.”

 

“Greedy.” Cole murmurs, pinching her nipple as his mouth find her throat.

  
Her moan is strangled as she comes again. Deacon pushes down the sharp bolt of lust as he adds a little more lube, working the final finger inside of her. “Talk to me, Cass.” His voice is as shaky as he feels, “How are you feeling?”

 

She lets out a shuddering breath. “Full.”

 

“That you are, love.” He murmurs, his other hand stroking her shaking thigh, skimming up and over to press her clit, “Too much?”

 

“No.” Her voice is soft.

 

“Come for me, for us, one for time and then you can have us.” Deacon tells her.

 

He looks to Cole, inclines his head. Cole rises up and moves closer to him. His mouth crashes against Deacon’s and Deacon moans, the sound muffled against his lips. His lips, his tongue tastes like Cassie and Deacon’s cock twitches in need. Cole kisses his way down his throat, his chest, deliberately moves around his hard cock. Deacon mutters ungracious words that draw an amused huff from Cole. Then Cole drops a kiss to Cassie’s thigh. She squirms and whines as his lips move up and over to her clit. His hair falls over his face, blocking Deacon’s view but by the way Cassie’s walls squeeze his hand, he knows exactly what Cole’s doing. Deacon moves his hand slowly; a gentle push and Cassie lets loose a cry. They work together to push her over the edge and Deacon slowly eases his hand out.

 

“Ready, Cas?” Cole asks her.

 

“ _Please_.”

 

It takes a minute of figuring out the optimal position before settling on Cole being on bottom with Cassie on top of him, her back to his chest. Deacon lubes them all up and guides Cole’s cock inside of her. He slides in and Cassie shivers. Between their legs, Deacon studies them and fuck, he really _is_ the luckiest bastard. Taking his overly slicked cock into his hand, he presses his tip at her entrance. The skin on skin contact from Cole’s cock makes him hiss. He slowly presses his cock inside of her, sliding along Cole’s shaft until he’s hilted.

 

“ _Christ_.” Deacon bites out, grabbing Cassie’s hips. He needs to hold onto her, keep himself grounded in this moment; they’re all together, fitting fucking perfectly.

 

Cole’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head pressing back against the pillows. Cassie is breathing hard, fast. Their eyes lock and hers are bright and wide. The pale skin of her face, her chest, is flushed. Her pussy grips them and Deacon’s carefully built focus nearly shatters.

 

“We all good?” He checks in.

 

Cassie and Cole make affirmative noises; beyond words at the moment. Deacon begins to move, a slow, driving rhythm of his hips. Pushing himself deeper into the sweet warmth of Cassie’s pussy, rubbing against the hard velvet length of Cole’s cock. They feel incredible and it takes all the power he has not to come already. He wants to make this last as long as possible. But Cole doesn’t make it easy; his cock throbs and Cassie’s walls flutter around them. It takes Deacon out of his head and all he can do is feel. Feel his lovers, feel the building pleasure as it sends lightening through him.

 

Cole comes first and pushes Deacon over the edge; both spilling inside of her as she quivers around them, letting out a course cry. Deacon pulls out and Cole curses softly into Cassie’s hair. Deacon drops a kiss to Cassie’s lips, then Cole’s.

 

“So fucking perfect.” He murmurs, “The both of you.”

 

Deacon eases to the mattress and works to catch his breath. Holy shit. Cassie untangles from Cole and makes a quiet noise, it’s half a whimper, half a groan.

 

“You alright?” Deacon asks.

 

“Fantastic.” She assures him, brushing a kiss to his temple, “That was…” She trails off with a shaky laugh, “I don’t have words.”

 

“Holy shit.” Cole breathes, echoing Deacon’s own thoughts.

 

“I need a shower.” Cassie wrinkles her nose.

 

“We all do.” Deacon agrees, “A real one this time. After my legs work again.”

 

Cassie laughs and somehow manages to get off the bed, heading to the bathroom. Her legs are quaking a little bit as she moves which makes Deacon feel a little better. Cole gets up and sits on the edge of the bed for a minute before he follows after Cassie. He should probably get up to. Deacon clears the towels from the bed and tosses them in the corner of the room. He grabs up the bottle of lube and sets it next to the nightstand, where the condoms sit, unopened.

 

So absorbed in them, it was the last thing on his mind. But now that they’re done, it’s all he can focus on. Swallowing hard, he stares at the gold wrappers and tries to settle the uneasy feeling that swamps him. What if she gets pregnant? He’s been so careful up until today. He doesn’t regret what they did one fucking bit but it doesn’t stop the cold grip of fear from overtaking all the good feelings he had had.

 

“Deacon?” Cassie’s voice drifts from the open bathroom door, “What’s keeping you?”

 

_My own idiocy._ “Be right there.” He calls back and tries not to let this ruin everything. He puts on his poker face and joins them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated


	14. Failure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of murder and child abuse

The catalyst comes in the form of an envelope. Since they got back from the Keys, their lives resumed their normal dizzying speed. Deacon doesn’t bring up the topic of children; chalks his worry up to paranoia. But fate brings the discussion to his door via the postal service. It’s Friday and the Jones’ are over for dinner—a new tradition Cole and Hannah began. Eliot is warming up to him; considering they didn’t meet on the best of terms in the other timeline. And the fact that Deacon killed him. Deacon and Cole are entertaining and cooking while Cassie is on her way home from the office, grabbing the ingredients for salad.

 

She comes in the apartment, one arm loaded with a paper bag that has leafy greens peeking out of the top. Her other hand has the mail. Deacon relieves her of the groceries and drops a quick kiss to her cheek.

 

“Hello sweetness.” He greets her.

 

Her green eyes meet his and they look troubled. Worry weaves its way into his chest. Wordlessly, she hands in one of the envelopes. “I debated not even showing it to you and just tossing it myself.” Her voice is quiet.

 

All his joy is eclipsed by the return address written in sharp scrawl. Rikers Island. His stomach clenches and turns. The urge to vomit is rises and he can taste bile in the back of his throat. He swallows thickly as Cassie touches his face, cupping his jaw.

 

“What is it?” Cole’s voice is concerned.

 

“Garbage.” He answers simply, stepping away from Cassie’s sweet touch, striding into the kitchen.

 

He deposits the bag on the counter and stares on the envelope in his hand. There is no part of him that wants to open it. He drops it to the counter.

 

“Are you alright?” It’s Hannah, her voice patient.

 

“I will be.”

 

The others have moved into the kitchen and watch him as he sets the envelope in the sink. Digging through the junk drawer, he pulls out a box of matches. He takes one out and slides it along the strip. The satisfaction of the noise, the sight of the flame coming to life settles in his gut. Deacon places the match on top of the envelope and watches as it begins to burn.

 

“Was that necessary?” Katarina asks him.

 

“Absolutely.” He grabs the nearly bottle of liquor and fixes himself a shot, slamming it back. Amadeus pads over to him and bumps Deacon’s leg with his head.

 

There’s a brief knock at the door and everyone looks at him.

 

“Were we expecting anyone else?” Cassie asks.

 

“Nope.” Deacon pours himself another before he goes to the door and wrenches it open.

 

Shawn is standing in the doorway. In his hands, he has an envelope too. Figures. Deacon opens the door wider. “Bon fire is in the sink.”

 

“Perfect.” Shawn mutters.

 

Deacon shuts the door and they head into the kitchen. Shawn says a bleak sounding hello to everyone and tosses his envelope in the basin to join Deacon’s. Of course, the small fire goes out so Deacon throws in more matches this time, making it ignite faster. He grabs the shot he had poured for himself and shoves it into his brother’s hand. After getting himself one, they clink their glasses, and down it. Shawn reaches for the bottle and dispenses another.

 

“You don’t want to know what he had to say?” Hannah asks.

 

Deacon rolls his eyes around to face her. “Fuck. No.” It takes great control not to snap at her, “I don’t need to know what that monster wants. I don’t care if he’s dying and asking for forgiveness. He’ll never have it from me.”

 

“Or me.” Shawn slams down a third shot.

 

Deacon scrubs his face with his hands, mood soured so deeply he just wants to get away. Wants to take the anger that’s coursing through him and put it towards something. Normally he would cook or do something that would be constructive; just like his grandmother had taught him to do. But right now, he’s feeling the opposite of creative. He wants to break things. Amadeus whines and scratches at his leg. In this mood, even Amadeus’ presence doesn’t do anything to help. A phone rings and Shawn digs his out of his pocket. Hitting the answer button, he presses it to his ear and begins talking.

 

With a sigh, Deacon puts out the fire, using the water from the tap to extinguish the remainder of the flames. A hand curls around his arm. Startled, he flinches at the touch. When he turns, he finds Cassie standing behind him. Her eyes are glassy with tears and her throat is working as if she’s trying not to cry. He wants to apologize but can’t bring himself to say anything. Shawn comes to the rescue as he hangs up his phone.

 

“That was Max. She booked one of those break rooms for us, if you’re interested.”

 

Damn, he owes Max fucking big. She knew exactly what he needed. “Will she be there?”

 

“If you want her to be. It’s in your hands.”

 

Deacon shifts his attention to his lovers then over to the Joneses. “I’m sorry for the interruption.” He clears his throat, irritation tightening his shoulders, “My father still has a way of ruining things. This is one of the reasons I never want kids. I won’t ever have anything to ruin.”

 

“Deacon…” Cassie’s voice is almost a whisper and she looks about to break. He can’t stand it and he can’t take it back.

 

“Go.” Cole says firmly, “Do what you need to do.”

 

With a jerky nod, Deacon kisses Cassie’s cheek, then Cole’s and makes a hasty exit. Shawn follows at his back, quiet until they get out onto the street.

 

“Jesus, Theo!” He snaps, “I know you’re upset but you might as well have slapped Cassie!”

 

Deacon flinches, every word that Shawn spewed at him made his body recoil, stomach swooping. “Don’t ever fucking say that again.”

 

“It’s fucking true!” Shawn grabs his arm, “Have you not had a talk about having kids? You just broke her heart.”

 

Deacon wants to vomit. Preferably on Shawn’s shoes. “No. I mean, we just started our relationship. And we’re careful…normally.”

 

“What was with the pause?” Shawn demands.

 

“You know when we went to the Keys?” Deacon scrubs his beard with his fingers, “We weren’t.”

 

Shawn stares at him, disbelief in his eyes. “Beyond me calling you an idiot, I’m not about to lecture you. But I will say you need to talk to them. Soon.”

 

“I will.”

 

His brother throws his arm around his shoulders. “Now let’s go break some shit.”

 

 

 

Around three o’clock, Deacon returns home. After the Rage Room, they go to a bar close by and drink. The anger at his father faded with in the few first items he smashed with a sledgehammer. But the look on Cassie’s face? That stuck with him. It takes many, many drinks to chase away the guilt, the sorrow that’s clinging to him. Max and Shawn have to help him get upstairs, he’s that fucking trashed. To his surprise, Cassie and Cole are still up when they enter the apartment. Amadeus doesn’t even come to the door when they step inside, Max and Shawn navigating Deacon to the couch and drop him onto it. Cole thanks them as Cassie gets him a glass of water.

 

“Drink it.” Her voice leaves no room for argument.

 

Max pauses as she and Shawn make their exit, calling to him. “Text me when you’re human again, D.”

 

“I owe you a cake.” He slurs.

 

“Yes, you do.” She replies and shuts the door behind her.

 

Deacon stares up at Cassie and Cole and they’re looking down at him with looks that range from concern to hurt. Even being this far gone, remorse surfaces. “I’m sorry I fucked up our night.” He mutters.

 

“You don’t want children?” Cassie asks, her voice soft.

 

He knew she’d still be hanging on to that as sure as he was still feeling awful. “Cassie. My father murdered my mother and tried to murder _me_. That’s where my family tree is at. And that’s where I want it to end. I don’t want to become him.”

 

She blinks, turning her head away. He can still see the tears that fall down her cheeks.

 

“Who says you would become him?” Cole counters, “You’re nothing like him.”

 

“No, you’re right. We should leave it to chance.” Deacon scoffs, “His father broke him. My father broke me. It’s a sick fucking cycle that the Deacon’s carry.”

 

“Cycles break.” Cassie’s voice is firm, “This life is proof of it!”

 

“And yet, I’m still broken. This world, that world.” Deacon sighs heavily.

 

“I want children.” Cassie says, her voice so tight that it cuts his heart, “I didn’t get the chance with Athan…” She lets out a shuddering breath, “I want a family. Our family.”

 

“You didn’t need my help bringing Athan into this world.” The words escape his lips before he can stop them.

 

Cassie rocks back as if he had hit her. Cole’s eyes widen. “ _Deacon_.”

 

Fuck. He can barely look at them. But he does and he swallows hard at the looks on their faces. With his filter gone, the next words that tumble out even surprise him. “I don’t know what it takes to be a good father. I don’t know if I even have it in me.”

 

Cole gives him a wry smile. “Sure you do, just do the opposite of everything your father did.”

 

Deacon nods. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s just been on my mind lately, since the Keys. And then the letter from my dad came and…I’m sorry.”

 

Cassie wipes away her tears with the back of her hand, sniffling delicately. “Let’s just let it go for the night. You’re drunk. We should save this for when you’re sober.”

 

“Okay.” Deacon answers softly.

 

In bed, they cuddle just the same as always. But fear grips Deacon, keeping him awake through the sunrise. His eyes are still open, memorizing the ceiling, when Cassie and Cole wake.

 

“Did you sleep?” Cassie’s voice is thick with slumber and she nuzzles her face against his bicep.

 

“No.” Deacon’s voice comes out something like a croak, “Christ, I’m such an ass.”

 

“A bit.” Cassie sits up and straddles him; her body keeping high on his hips, keeping away from his cock, “But I do understand why you’re so afraid.”

 

In the space Cassie once occupied, Cole slips into it, pressing his body along Deacon’s. Cole’s skin is warm, nearly feverish to the touch. It’s his natural setting now, Deacon knows, even though they no longer time travel. Deacon rests his hand on Cassie’s left thigh, pushing her nightgown up her leg to reveal her soft skin. She touched the word he’s been avoiding: fear. He’s scared to his bones at the prospect of children. Cold sweat beads along his spine. The mix between that feeling, Cole’s oven like warmth, and his hangover makes his stomach rock dangerously. He’s going to be sick.

 

He bolts up, untangling Cassie from him as quickly as he can. Stumbling into the bathroom, he loses his stomach contents in the toilet; heaving painfully. He hasn’t been this hungover in a long time; he’s going to feel it for a few days. When he’s done, he spits in the bowl and shuts the lid. Blearily, he flushes the toilet and staggers to the sink. After washing his hands, he brushes his teeth and trudges back into the bedroom, collapsing back on the bed.

 

“Drank too much.” He mutters, as if it wasn’t obvious.

 

“Get some rest.” Cassie murmurs, green eyes watching him with an unreadable expression. Climbing to her feet, she pulls out some workout clothes out of the dresser, “I’m going to go for a run in the park, I’ll take Amadeus with me. I’ll be back in an hour.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Deacon doesn’t know what else to say.

 

“I know.” Cassie sighs, “I’m not pregnant so you’re being sorry for nothing.”

 

Within minutes, she’s dressed and gone, Deacon would give anything to make this feeling go away. Drinking it away, his usual choice, isn’t an option so he’s stuck mulling it over and over in his head. He deserves every painful second of this hangover. He groans and buries his head into Cassie’s pillow. Cole’s hand finds his back, soothes along his spine. Exhaling heavily, Deacon looks up at Cole.

 

“Do you hate me too?” He asks.

 

Cole rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t hate you. She’s just hurting a little bit. You blindsided her.”

 

“But not you?”

 

Cole shrugs. “I’m not going to pretend that I haven’t thought about having a family with you and Cassie. I’m not going to pretend that I know what I’m doing either. I didn’t know about Athan until after, remember? I only got to be his father for a few moments spread throughout time…”

 

“And here I come, ruining the chance to fix that.”

 

“You’re not ruining anything.” Cole’s hand kneads his shoulders, finding the exact spot where the tension has gathered.

 

Deacon lets out a small groan. “I am. I told you both I was in the way of your happy ever after…”

 

“We’re happiest with you, dumbass.” Cole retorts, “Cut that shit out.”

 

Closing his eyes, Deacon focuses on the feel of Cole’s strong fingers working the knot out of his muscles. He tries to picture himself holding a baby, playing with a toddler but he can’t see it. Instead his mind’s eye conjures up an image of the first time his father hit him. He was five and his father was drunk, tripped over one of his toys. His body recoils at the memory and Cole’s hand freezes.

 

“Deacon?”

 

“Sorry. I tried to think of what it would be like to hold our baby. Instead my brain reminded me of the first time my dad hit me.” He cracks his eyes open and raises them to Cole’s, “My brain isn’t my friend today.”

 

Cole’s hand cups his jaw. “That would never be you. You know that right?”

 

Deacon releases a breath, it leaves his lungs in a small shudder. “I was that man, Cole.”

 

“Not here, not now. No matter what memories we hold of the other timeline, things are different now. And I’d argue then that you still weren’t your father.” Cole reminds him, “This you is compassionate and considerate, most days anyways.” He offers him a little smile, “You’re still a protector. Still charming and smart and cunning…”

 

“And a drunk.” Deacon mutters.

 

“Stop it.”

 

Deacon rolls onto his back and scrubs his face with his hands. “I’ll start working on the topic with my therapist.” He doesn’t know what else he can do. But losing Cassie and Cole isn’t an option.

 

“That’s a start.” Cole’s hand finds his and entwines their fingers, “But I know someone else you can talk to about being a father. Someone you owe a conversation.”

 

_Ramse_. Cole does have a point. Deacon lifts their hands, drops a kiss to Cole’s knuckles. “If he starts being a smug bastard, I may punch him in the face.” Deacon warns.

 

“He may deserve it.” Cole grins.

 

 

 

 

A few hours later, when he’s feeling a little more human and less like he’s been hit by a truck, Deacon meets Ramse for lunch. Deacon sticks to water and fries; his stomach still hurts and the thought of eating makes him queasy so he’s sticking to the least offensive things he can think to put in his body. Ramse quirks a brow at him after their order is placed.

 

“You okay?”

 

Deacon shrugs. “Hung over as hell.”

 

“Ah.” Ramse nods, reclines back in his chair. His dark eyes are close to obsidian as he studies Deacon, “I have questions.”

 

“I thought you might.” Deacon takes a drink of water and sets the glass back down, “Everything’s on the table.”

 

“Why? Why _them_. This is supposed to be our reward for the past. Why get tangled up in theirs?”

 

Irritation crawls through his veins and he wonders if that was Ramse’s goal. “For starters: I only knew Jennifer. She was a customer at my bar who became one of my best friends. Then one day she brought Cassie. I didn’t know who either of them were to start. Hell, I didn’t find out the other timeline was real until the day Cole returned. Cassie and I became friends and love grew from there. Then Cole came back. He’s the one that suggested us all be together.”

 

“Cole did?” Ramse blinks, “Are you shitting me?”

 

“Nope. Though he and I spent some time figuring each other out first before we started—“

 

“I don’t need to hear that part.” Ramse cuts him off quick, “Not because it’s you and him. I don’t give a shit about that part. I don’t need to hear where Cole’s putting his dick. He’s my brother. Don’t need that in my head.”

 

“I was going to say dating, _ass_.” Deacon rolls his eyes. “Look. I love them both. Equally and without reservation.” Deacon leans his arms on the tabletop, “I’m sorry if it weirds you out but we’re happy.” _When I’m not being an asshole_.

 

“Promise me you’ll keep it that way.”

 

Deacon lifts his hand, waits to see if Ramse will reciprocate. “Until my dying day.”

 

Ramse lifts his chin and smacks his hand into Deacon’s and squeezes. Deacon squeezes back, putting a little more pressure than necessary. Ramse laughs and breaks his grip just as their food arrives. Their conversation takes a friendlier turn as they start eating. Ramse talks about when Jennifer hired him for security at Markridge, the first time remembered the other timeline and learned the truth. Then he talks about Sam. His eyes warm and there’s an absent smile on his lips when he talks.

 

Deacon swallows hard, his heart tugging in his chest. He grabs a fry, twisting it in his fingers. “And being a father? What’s that like?”

 

Ramse blows out a breath. “Simultaneously, the greatest and most terrifying thing to happen to me. My dad wasn’t around when I was kid. It was just me and my mom. I had a few male role models but it’s not the same as a dad, y’know?”

 

Deacon drops the fry, wiping the salt and grease from his fingers onto the cloth napkin besides his plate. “Oh, I know a thing or two about father’s. But none of it good.”

 

The other man winces. “Sorry.”

 

Shrugging, Deacon leans back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. “Not your fault.”

 

“Listen, Deek.” Ramse levels him with a look, “Your situation? The shit end of the stick. I don’t know what it’s like to have a dad but I do know how to love, you know? That’s what it comes down to at the end of the day. Even the bad days. I love my son and I would take on the world for him.”

 

Deacon can’t fight the smile that tugs at his lips so he doesn’t even try. “You’re a good father, Ramse.”

 

“I try. It’s all any of us can do. We’re never going to be perfect, none of us. We’re gonna fuck up but you just gotta try again and give them all the love you can.”

 

Deacon nods slowly. “You’re much wiser in this timeline.”

 

Ramse snorts into his coffee. “Right back atcha, brother.”

 

Deacon grins; the feeling in his chest a mix of relief and something like pride. They’ve made more progress than he expected. Maybe they can be brothers this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :)


	15. Torn In Two

The next two weeks pass by in a blink. Deacon was greeted by a surprise as he returned home from a work out with Whitley in the afternoon. Cassie was laying on the couch, hair up in a messy top knot, thick framed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Amadeus was laying with his head on her abdomen, blanketing her legs with the rest of his bulky body. After tucking away his shoes and ditching his workout bag near the coat closet, he made his way over to the living room.

 

“You’re home early, sweetness.” He crouched down and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, “You alright?”

 

She placed the book she was reading over the back of the couch and shook her head. “We got some lunch from this new bistro around the corner from my office and I’ve been queasy ever since. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten the fish.”

 

He chuckles softly, stroking her cheek in a gentle caress. “Fish for lunch? Never a good call.” 

 

She makes a face, pushing herself up into a sitting position. Amadeus grunts and moves down to the other side of the couch, perturbed that she changed their former position.  Deacon leaned over and scratched his ear until he made a contented noise. 

 

“Bluh.” Cassie groans and frowns, “Take my mind off my stomach. How was Marcus?”

 

“He’s good. We’re going to have dinner Saturday.” Deacon answers, more concerned about her current disconentment, “Do you want me to get you some ginger ale? Ginger candy? Crackers?”

 

“Mm.” She hums quietly, “Ginger ale might be good.”

 

He kisses her on the cheek, nuzzles his face along her hairline. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

Deacon walks to the pharmacy on the next block over. Inside, he grabs a basket and wanders through the aisles. He grabs ginger candy, crackers, the ginger ale. His eyes catch one of the markers that hang above each section: pregnancy/family planning. Hit gut tightens and his legs move on autopilot towards the shelves. A vast array of condoms is the first thing that greet him and he squats down to study the wide variety of pregnancy tests that are housed midshelf. Browsing through them is a little more than overwhelming and he can feel his pulse, hear it hammering in his ears until it blocks out anything else.

 

He grabs a digital one; it’s midline fancy but not the top of the line. It’ll flat out say **pregnant** or **not pregnant** but won’t give estimated weeks, like a few of the other options. They honestly don’t need that between the last time they fucked and the fact that Cassie’s a doctor and has access to more concrete tests. This…this will do for security’s sake. At the register, the older woman who rings him up takes note of his purchases and offers a small smile.

 

“Lemon water can help with nausea too.” Her voice is light, kind.

 

“Uh, thanks.” Deacon pulls out his wallet and slides the correct amount of bills and change across the counter, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

She nods, putting the money in the till. “Have a good day.”

 

“You too.” He mutters and collects his bag.

 

He feels spacey on the walk home, his head feeling disconnected from the rest of his body. Back in the apartment, he finds Cassie in the kitchen. She’s leaning over the sink, hands braced on the counter, head bowed. There’s a tension in her shoulders and he longs to help ease it from her. Setting the bag on the island, he crosses to her and wraps his arms around her ribs, resting his chin on her head.

 

“How you doing?” Deacon asks.

 

She relaxes against him, but not all the way. “Threw up. Still nauseous.” 

 

He steps back and pulls out the ginger ale, the candy, the crackers, setting them out for her to choose. “I got something else while I was there.”

 

“Oh?” Cassie turns and he sets the pregnancy test in front of all the remedies.

 

Her eyes grow wide. “Deacon…” She whispers.

 

“Better safe than sorry, right?” He crosses his arms across his chest with a small, one shouldered shrug, “Take it, Cas.” 

 

She lifts the box and rounds the island. “Wait with me?” Her tongue wets her lips and she looks at him with those beautiful eyes still so big and there’s fear in them. 

 

Deacon hates himself more than he ever has. He put that fear there. “Of course.”

 

They move into the bedroom and he sits on the edge of the bed while she goes into the bathroom and closes the door. A few minutes later, Cassie opens the door and steps outside. Easing her phone from her sweat pants pocket, she sits down beside him, and sets the timer for three minutes.

 

On the screen, the time speeds by. 

 

Three minutes is nothing yet stretches on for an eternity. He weaves his fingers with hers. They sit in quiet until it chimes. Entering the bathroom, Cassie freezes in the doorway. He looks down at her.

 

“Cas?”

 

“I can’t look.” She whispers, “I can’t.”

 

He captures her face in his hands, tilts her face up until she’s looking at him. “No matter what that says, I love you, love Cole more than anything and wouldn’t change out life together for an instant.”

 

“What if it’s positive?” She chokes out, hot tears stream down her cheeks, wet his fingers.

 

“Then we start our family.” He answers simply, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m not going to pretend I’m not scared and I can’t promise that I’ll not have moments where I might freak out but I’ll have nine months to wrap my head around things.”

 

“What if it’s negative?” 

 

He hadn’t considered that would be a fear for her, but it’s plain on her face. He feels like a bigger ass than before. Deacon presses a kiss to her lips, rests his forehead against hers. And he knows the answer to her question; feels it in his heart. It’s stronger than any fear he has. “Then we keep on trying until it’s positive.”

 

The apprehension, the worry, melts from her face. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, sweetness.” 

 

“I’m still scared to look.” She murmurs.

 

“Then I will.” He takes a step back, then another. He turns and faces the counter. The white stick is sitting on the counter, standing out starkly against the black marble. He peers down at it and his breath catches. 

 

**Pregnant**

 

Closing his eyes, he lets out the breath. He meets Cassie’s eye in the reflection of the mirror. “Well.” Is all he says.

 

“Well?” She echoes as he turns, her hand gripping the door frame.

 

He walks back to her and studies her face. He can’t decipher the look in her eyes, too many emotions are clashing behind them. He sinks to his knees, hands sliding to hold her hips. There’s no outward trace of the baby yet but soon enough, she’ll show as their baby grows. _Theirs_. It’s an incredible feeling; he’s scared to death but fuck if it’s eclipsed by that thought. _Theirs._

 

“Deacon?”

 

He drops a kiss above where the baby is housed and rolls his eyes up to hers. “We’re going to have to figure out what Cole and I are going to be called or we’re going to be confused every time our kid says Dada.”

 

Cassie clamps her hands over her mouth and lets out a small sob. “I’m pregnant?”

 

“Yeah, sweetness. We’re going to have a baby.” He smiles up at her, focusing on the look on her face, the luminous elation that shines across her features is more breathtaking than he could have ever imagined and his heart wants to burst; this is what a real love looks like.

 

She slides down to meet him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She laughs and the sound still has a bit of a sob in it. He holds her tight, kissing every part of her face he can reach. Cassie pulls back and touches his cheek. “You’re going to be a father.” 

 

He swallows. “I am. I promise you and Cole,” pausing, he slides his hand over her womb, “Promise our child, that I’m going to try my best.” Whatever it takes: whether it be more therapy, whatever he must confront, he will. For them.

 

“You’re going to do wonderful.” She assures him, kissing him soundly, “How should we tell Cole?”

 

He laughs. “Good question. Do we go for sweet or cheesy?”

 

“Did you have something in mind?” She asks with a small laugh.

 

“We could throw a bun in the oven and see if he gets it.” 

 

Cassie laughs in full and it’s a beautiful, joyful sound. “I’m sure he will.”

 

That’s exactly what they do. Minutes before Cole is due to come home, Deacon sets the timer above the oven and returns to the couch, curling himself around Cassie. She’s back to feeling nauseous so her excitement is dampened a touch as she slowly sips the ginger ale and nibbles on a dry cracker. Amadeus’s head is in her lap but more in hope of catching crumbs than for cuddles. 

 

Cole comes in the door with a cheerful hello and kisses them both, while eyeing Cassie with a concerned look.

 

“You alright?” He asks, sitting down on the coffee table.

 

“Nauseous. Lunch hasn’t settled well.” She scrunches her nose, “Deacon and Amadeus are taking care of me.”

 

“Good.” His words are cut off by the sound of the oven timer going off.

 

“Can you get that for me, sweetheart?” Deacon asks him, gesturing to Cassie and the dog sprawled across him, “I’m kinda buried here.”

 

“Sure.” Cole chuckles and rises, crossing into the kitchen

 

Cassie looks at Deacon and her smile is radiant. They finagle until they can both see over the back of the couch, watching Cole as it hits the button and stops the beeping of the alarm. Then he opens the oven and stares into it. Cassie’s shaking and Deacon glances at her, finding her silently laughing. 

 

“Why the hell is there just a bun in the oven…” Cole mutters. Then he stops and stands up straight, the oven door slamming close. He turns around and faces them and Deacon can’t stop smiling at the look on Cole’s face. It’s full of wonder and pure joy. “Wait a second, are you telling me…?”

 

Cassie nods. “I took a test this afternoon. It was positive.” 

 

Coming back to them, Cole kisses Cassie, then Deacon, delight bright in his eyes. “Holy shit.” He laughs as he sits back on the coffee table.

 

“I’ll run bloodwork tomorrow and figure out the due date tomorrow.” Cassie tells them, “I’ll call as soon as I know everything.”

 

“Sounds good.” Deacon kisses her temple and reclines back, “Now we just need to help you feel less pukey.”

 

She nods. “The crackers are helping a bit. Ginger ale too.” She touches his face with a gentle brush of her fingertips, “And if you’ll excuse me, I have to pee.”

 

Amadeus grumbles as Cassie moves and gets off the couch, moving to his dog bed in the corner and curling into it.

 

“So put out.” Deacon tells him, shaking his head.

  
Amadeus yawns in response.

 

Cole’s hands slide on top of Deacon’s and studies his face. “How are you doing?”

 

Deacon shrugs. “I’m scared but I’m not running for the hills. You, Cassie, the baby. You’re everything.”

  
Cole mouth crashes onto his in a fierce kiss. “Good.” Cole mutters against his lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Opening the bar the next morning, Deacon is still half in a daze. He hides out in his office, avoiding the staff as much as possible. Nosey bastards would know right away something is up. Christ knows he doesn’t want another pool starting. As he writes an email to Maddox about Peach is Primary’s reception by the patrons, his desk phone rings. Not bothering to read the caller ID, he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen, hitting send as he grabs up the phone, pressing it to his ear.

 

“Deacon.”

 

“Hi.” It’s Cassie but there’s something wrong with her voice. 

 

His gut twists and he sits up straighter in his chair, angling away from the computer. “Are you okay?” 

 

There’s a sound on her end. It’s a sniffle. “I got my labs back.” She clears her throat but she still sounds hoarse, “The test I took last night was a false positive.”

 

“What?” The word leaves his lips at a near whisper.

 

“I’m not pregnant.” Then she’s crying and he wants to destroy the world, “I bet you feel relieved.” She adds after a moment.

 

Relieved? The emotion hadn’t even touched him. Only pain had. It ripped his heart, shredding it as their new life slips through his fingers. He didn’t expect this: so focused on the fear of what he could become, he didn’t realize what it would feel like to have it all vanish. But he feels it, sharp and as painful as any blade.  “No, I don’t. Not at all.” His throat tightens and he swallows, trying to ease it.

 

“We’ve only had unprotected sex once; I can’t believe we thought it would happen so quick.” She continues, practically talking over him.

 

“For some people that’s all it takes. And you had double the amount of men involved than usual.” He replies, keeping his tone dry.

 

She doesn’t laugh. She sniffles again. “Cole brought me lunch. He was here when I got the results so he knows already.”

 

Deacon sighs; feeling relieved now. He’s glad Cole was there to comfort her. “I meant what I said, Cassandra. We’ll keep trying until it happens.”

 

“Okay.” Her voice is soft, “I have to go back to work, my break is almost over.”

 

“Alright, sweetness.” He sinks back against the leather of the chair, “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” 

 

The line hums monotone in his ear as Cassie hangs up. Deacon sets the phone back on the cradle and breathes in. It sounds wet, more like a sniffle. He scrubs his face with his hands as the impact lingers, his heart aching like a fresh wound. It’s only then, when he sees the tears on his palms, that he realizes he’s crying. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	16. Breath

The pool balls strike each other with a hard, satisfying clack as Whitley makes an impressive shot, getting him and Deacon five more points.  
   
“Nice.” Deacon holds out his knuckles towards and Whitley gives him a fist bump.  
   
The bar was quieter tonight; outside was a slushy mess of sleet. While that hardly stopped his regulars, the foot traffic from random passersby was non-existent. Deacon rolled his eyes at himself; he was off tonight, technically using the space to hang with his Splinter family, plus Shawn and Max—who were also off and joining in on the fun.  
   
The only one missing was Cassie.  
   
When she could on Thursdays, she dropped in at the dance studio a few blocks down. She would be on her way soon; a quick glance at his watch tells him her class is wrapping up around now.  
   
Max saddles up next to him and bumps her shoulder against his. “So, what are we doing for your birthday, old man?”  
   
Deacon groans in protest. “Quiet you. I’m not that old.”  
   
He was going to be forty-three, seven years older than the rest of them—excluding Katarina, who stuck the end of her cue to the floor like she was wielding a staff.  
   
“Excuse me but if Mr. Deacon is old, what the hell am I?” She drawls.  
   
“Nobody answer that, it’s a trap.” Ramse quips as he lines up a shot on the other table and nails it, sinking a red stripe ball into a corner pocket.  
   
“Wise.” Katarina smirks and salutes him with her whiskey.  
   
Cole laughs from where he’s holding up the wall beside Hannah. Shawn slides up along Deacon’s other side. “Does that mean I have to cancel the subscription I got you to AARP?”  
   
Deacon wraps his arm around his brother’s neck in a somewhat affectionate headlock. “I can still kick your ass, you know?”  
   
Shawn just laughs and tries to break the hold. Deacon makes him work for it but they’re both laughing when Shawn finally is able to disengage. Deacon grabs his bourbon off the table they’ve claimed for their drinks and drains it.  
   
“Anyone ready for another?” He asks, lifting his empty tumbler.  
   
“Me! Me! Me!” Jennifer bounces up and down after she does some trick shot that was impressive as fuck.   
   
“I’ll have another.” Whitley speaks up.  
   
“Yeah, I’ll take another.” Ramse looks down at the watch on his wrist, “I got some time.”  
   
“Grab me another.” Max adds, elbowing him.  
   
The door opens and Cassie strides in. Her cheeks are touched with pink from the cold outside and she dries her shoes on the rug in front of the door. Her hair is loose and hanging to her midback; the prenatals she started taking have been making it grow faster and stronger. He can’t help but stare at her for a moment, especially when he notices her boots. They’re long, disappearing underneath the hem of her thick coat. Horny bastard he is, he wonders if he can talk her into wearing just those next time they fuck. She smiles when she notices him watching her, their eyes meeting as she walks over to the pool tables.  
   
“Hey.” She greets everyone, sounding a little breathless, fingers working to unbutton her coat. She peels it off and Deacon’s eyes travel up to long legs, discovering the boots end mid-thigh. Yeah, he’s definitely asking. “Sorry I’m late.”  
   
Jennifer wraps her in a hug. “What the hell kind of boots are you wearing? I thought you were at dance class.”  
   
She laughs and squeezes Jennifer back. “It’s heel night!” Her tone is amused, “These help me slide easier when I’m on the floor.”  
   
“Uh-huh.” Jennifer teases with a huffing laugh.  
   
Cassie moves on to greet the others before she pulls in Cole for a kiss and a hug. Then she moves to Deacon. He slides his hands around her waist, thumbs brushing along the inch of bare skin exposed by the black lacy mid-drift bearing top. Her green eyes are bright and she looks amused, as if she can read his mind. He brushes his lips across hers before claiming her lips in a slow kiss.  
   
Since the false-positive test, he’s kept his promise to her. Their fucking has moved out of the honeymoon phase and shifted into something more. Something that’s woken something primal in him. He couldn’t get enough of her before but now it’s even more intense.  
   
Their moment is broken by the sound of at least four throats being cleared, loudly and dramatically. When Deacon lifts his face, looking over Cassie’s head, Whitley and Jennifer look amused while Ramse looks almost annoyed. He catches Katarina’s slight headshake and ghost of an amused smile. Cole’s face is blank but Deacon knows that’s the expression he uses when he wishes they were somewhere else, wrapped up in each other.  
   
“I’d apologize but I’m not fucking sorry.” Deacon shrugs and pulls Cassie closer and rests his chin on her head when her arms lock around his waist.  
   
“That’s enough of a show, please take it elsewhere.” Max retorts then holds up a chiding finger, “After you get us the drinks you owe us.”  
   
“Bitch, bitch, bitch.” Deacon mutters with a wink, which earns him a jab of her elbow after Cassie pulls away.  
   
He strides to the bar, placing the order with Binx. They chat while she lines up the glasses for bourbon and grabs a bottle of Peach is Primary. Then he feels arms around him, a body pressed into his back. But it wasn’t Cassie’s tall frame with her slight curves nor was it Jennifer, slim, bordering on delicate.  The body was shorter, fuller, and heart-wrenchingly familiar.  
   
Swallowing hard, he turns from Binx and faces Melody Ashwright. Her big brown eyes are filled with warm and her full lips are quirked at the corner in a small smile.  
   
“Melody.” He murmurs.  
   
“Hi, Deeks.” She replies and slowly steps back, releasing him.  
   
Two years since he last laid eyes on her. Two years since he walked out of her and Tristan’s life, unable to give them what they wanted: all of him, forever. The two years has been kind to her. She’s as beautiful as ever; short frame rocking killer curves. Her deep, dark hair that use to be in a cute, angled bob now hung down to her shoulders.  
   
“You look good.” Deacon tells her.  
   
“So do you.” Her smile grows, her hand coming up to trail through his scruff, “Loving all the grey in your beard.” The giant rock of a wedding ring she wears on her ring finger glints in the light, flashing in his peripheral vision, “Tris is going grey too. It’s so fucking hot.”  
   
Deacon has no doubts of that. Her being this close to him, her touch so personal, so familiar was a shock to his system. Yet there was no longing. No urge to lean into her touch.  
   
Binx’s voice cuts in. “Please tell me that incredibly gorgeous man is coming in for a drink too.”  
   
“Keep it in your pants, Binx!” Deacon snorts, rolling his eyes, carefully pulling away from her touch.  
   
Melody laughs, unfazed by Binx’s enthusiasm and his gentle rebuff. “He’s going to pick me up in a bit. I came in with some of the others from my dance class.” She points to a table in the corner where a man and woman sit, chatting, “I didn’t know that this was the place they were planning on for post class drinks until we walked in.”  
   
“You’re welcome here, you know. You don’t have to avoid me.”  
   
She takes in a breath, it hitches, shudders in her chest. “Kinda hard to come into a place that’s owned by the man that broke your heart. Your husbands heart too.”  
   
Shit. Deacon’s throat feels tight. Of course they hurt more, he walked away from them. It had hurt him too, he wasn’t heartless. But it’s what he had had to do then. “I didn’t mean to.”  
   
“I know.” She nods and looks around, eyes pausing on the others who are blatantly watching the exchange, “Looks like you built a good life for yourself.”  
   
“I have.” Deacon grabs the drinks on the counter, all too aware now that the others are watching the exchange with interest. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you.” Deacon says, inclining his head in their direction, “Well, except for Shawn and Max. I’m sure you remember them.”  
   
Melody laughs. “Of course.”  
   
They cross the floor and Melody throws her arms around Max and then Shawn while Deacon doles out the drinks. He settles between Cassie and Cole, pulling them in closer. Cassie curls into his side, her arm sliding along his waist. Her body is tense and he drops a kiss to her forehead.  
   
“Everyone, this is Melody Ashwright.” He says. Melody waves as he goes down the line of his Splinter family. Pausing at his lovers, he gives them a special introduction, “This is Cassandra Railly and James Cole, my girlfriend and boyfriend.”  
   
Cassie gives him a smile. “I actually know Melody from class. I didn’t know you knew her.”  
   
“We use to date. Me, her, and her husband. I’ve mentioned them before.” Deacon answers simply.  
   
She nods her head slowly, eyes lit with recognition. “Yes, I remember.”  
   
Melody studies Cassie and Cole for a moment. Her eyes are like Jennifer’s, expressive. He could always read her even when she tried to hide her feelings. It what she was doing now. “You are both so lucky.” She says softly, “Be good to him.”  
   
“Of course.” Cole replies.  
   
She turns her attention to the others. “It was nice meeting you all. Shawn, Max, it was great seeing you guys again.”  
   
“Likewise.” Shawn and Max echo.  
   
Pivoting in a graceful half turn, she moves across the bar, her heels clacking on the hardwood as she goes to meet her friends. Deacon takes a long drink, the bourbon warming his throat.  
   
“Well, she was very touchy feely.” Jennifer declares, hand on her hip.  
   
“You’re one to talk Coocoo puffs.” Ramse points out with a smile.  
   
“But my touches are pure in intent.” She argues, “Hers aren’t.”  
   
He can’t argue either point. “She’s not as bad as Tris.”  
   
“Really?” Jennifer sounds exasperated.  
   
“Yep.” Deacon pops the ‘p’ at the end before he finishes his drink.  
   
“Oh, God yeah.” Max agrees.  
   
“I swear every time I turned around, he was trying to grope Deacon in a corner.” Shawn shook his head, “I started to have to announce my presence very loudly.” He raises his voice a little dramatically, “I’m coming down the hall, I’m in the kitchen, I’m entering the living room!”  
   
While the others laugh at his brother’s antics, Deacon catches Jones watching him.  
   
“You clearly meant a great deal to them.” Katarina looks at Deacon, her sharp blue eyes meeting his.  
   
“I would say so. They wanted me to marry them.” Deacon sighs, “I wasn’t ready for anything serious. I am now.”  
   
“Ready to settle down in your old age.” Shawn intones.  
   
Deacon shoots him a glare. “You’re a dick.”  
   
“I know you are but what am I?”  
   
“Did you really just—?”  Deacon’s cut off by Max.  
   
She raises her hands between the two of them. “You’re both ridiculous. Though, props to D for finally getting his shit together.”  
   
Deacon raises his glass to her in salute and downs it. “Let’s get back to our game. Whitley and I were kicking Ramse and Cole’s asses.”  
   
Cole and Ramse both protest heartily and while they start the game back up, Cassie rests her head onto his shoulder, her arms sliding around him.  
   
An hour passes and their game wind down. After Deacon and Whitley win, Deacon heads upstairs to let out Amadeus. Amadeus takes his time stretching each leg to its limit so Deacon rummages in the kitchen drawers. He knows that Katarina has an emergency pack of cigarettes hidden somewhere and their siren call can’t be ignored. Not while Melody still sits downstairs and Tris will be showing up eventually. When he finds it, he pulls one out and grabs the lighter.  
   
Leashing up Amadeus, they head downstairs. While Amadeus does his thing out on the small patch of grass, Deacon puts the cigarette between his lips and lights it, thankful the sleet has let up. He takes a long drag and slowly blows out the smoke. It disappears into in the wind that whips around him, tugging at his hair. He’s halfway through the cigarette when he sees Tristan.  
   
As Melody said, there’s more grey in his beard than not and Christ, it looks incredible on him. Deacon drops the cigarette and grinds it under the toe of his boot. When Tris spots him, he smiles, and quickens his steps, sweeping him into a tight hug. Deacon returns the embrace, just as tight. Tris’ easy going nature makes him feel at ease and he sighs softly.  
   
“It’s so good to see you.” Tris pulls back, still smiling radiantly.  
   
“Likewise.” Deacon smiles back because he can’t not do it.  
   
Between them, Amadeus grunts softly and plants his ass right on Deacon’s foot. If Deacon didn’t know any better, he would say that Amadeus is making sure they keep some distance between them.  
   
“Excuse you.” He chides him gently.  
   
Tris crouches down in front of Amadeus and offers his hand out. Amadeus gives him a sniff. “Is he yours?”  
   
“Yep, Tris meet Amadeus. Amadeus, Tris.”  
   
Amadeus lets Tris scratch his head and Tris coos at him, which apparently turns his dog to butter and he stretches out, offering him his belly. Tris grins and pets him. Deacon chuckles under his breath, people, dogs, everyone had the same reaction to Tris.  
   
“Never thought you’d have a dog.” Tris rises to his feet after a few minutes of lavishing Amadeus with some belly scratches.  
   
“I’ve done some growing.” Deacon admits, the words feeling odd on his tongue. Weird to admit out loud. Feeling a bit foolish, he ducks his head.  
   
“For the better, it seems.” Tris lifts his chin, studies him, dark eyes soft, “Heard you’re in a relationship too.”  
   
He nods. “Yeah. I am.”  
   
“Wouldn’t happen to be open by any chance?” Tris gives him a wink.  
   
Deacon chuckles. “Closed, you flirt.”  
   
Tris shrugs. “Can’t blame a man for trying.” He shoves his hands in his pocket, “Fuck, it’s cold out here.”  
   
Deacon nods. “Go head in. Melody is in the corner booth. I’m going to take him in and I’ll be right down.”  
   
His eyebrow raises. “You live above your bar?”  
   
“Had to live somewhere, Tris.”  
   
Tris laughs and claps him on the back. He gives Deacon’s shoulder a squeeze before he strides off, disappearing inside. Deacon looks down at Amadeus.  
   
“Come on, you.”  
   
After Amadeus is back upstairs and curled into his bed, Deacon returns to the bar. Tris, ever captivating, is apparently holding court. He’s talking animatedly with the others, Melody tucked under his arm. Binx is leaning against the bar, chin in her hands. Deacon ducks behind the bar and mimics her pose, inching closer and closer until he bumps into her side. She breaks her riveted gaze and bursts out laughing. Binx gives him a push.  
   
“You’re an ass.” She grins, a blush flushing her cheeks softly.  
   
He chuckles and gives her a side hug. “You’re so much fun to fuck with.”  
   
“Ass.” She repeats but leans into his hug and throws her arms around him, “I can’t help that man is literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”  
   
“I’m offended.”  
   
She wrinkles her nose at him. “You’re handsome but he’s in a different league.”  
   
“Rude.” But he can’t stop laughing because she’s not wrong.  
   
“Get out of here,” Binx hip checks him, “Go enjoy your night off.”  
   
He exits the bar and crosses to Cassie and Cole. They’re listening to Tris’ story with amused smiles. Well, everyone is. The man is a born storyteller and is charismatic as fuck. As his story wraps, the others laugh, and relief flows through Deacon.  
   
The Joneses, Ramse, and Whitley make their exit in a flurry of hugs and good byes. Melody murmurs something quiet to Tris, who nods.  
   
“We’re going to be on our way.” He announces, flashing a perfect smile to Jennifer, Cassie, and Cole, “It was great to meet you guys.” He nods to Max and Shawn, “Good seeing you two.”  
   
“Things are never dull with you around.” Shawn grins.  
   
Tris laughs and gives him a quick hug before swooping down to hug Max. She rolls her eyes but smiles, hugging him back. He moves to Cassie and Cole, quiet for a moment.  
   
“I didn’t know I could get jealous until now.” Tris says, with a quiet, humorless laugh. Then he smiles and it’s kind, soft.  
   
Deacon swallows when their eyes meet. He doesn’t know what he can say. But luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything. Tris cups his face.  
   
“I’m so happy for you.” Tris murmurs, “You’re healing. Growing. Loving. You’re incredible and if were a dick, I’d try to steal a kiss right now.”  
   
A small smile crosses Deacon’s lips. This fucking man. “But you’re not.”  
   
This time, Tris’ laugh is amused. “I’m not.” He pulls Deacon in for a hug instead. Deacon relaxes into it.  
   
When they part, Melody steps in for a hug and then they’re gone, strolling out the door. Deacon watches them go and sighs softly. He’s ready to unwind with Cassie and Cole. As much as he loves Jennifer, Max, and Shawn, he wants to hole up for a while. Jennifer definitely picks up on it; she has a gift for reading his emotions on a level that only Max had mastered. The three of them say their good byes as well, Jennifer vowing to continue the talk of what to do for his birthday before she leaves.  
   
Deacon heads upstairs with Cassie and Cole. Inside the apartment, Deacon sighs and rubs his face with his hands. Cassie is watching him quietly, green eyes glassy.  
   
“You alright?” He asks, pulling her to him. His eyes meet Cole’s over her head and Cole’s brows are drawn in concern.  
   
“Are we…are we enough for you?” She replies and she lets out a shuddering breath, “If-if you want to be with them again—“  
   
“Whoa, whoa, sweetness.” Deacon cuts her off quickly, keeping his tone gentle despite the fact he’s alarmed by the topic, “What’s all this about?”  
   
“They still love you. They miss you.” She meets his eyes, “It was palpable, Deacon. I’ve done reading on polyamorous relationships and I know they can be all shapes and sizes and I just want to know if we’re enough.”  
   
The emotional spiral hits him square in the chest. “Cassie. I wasn’t never meant to be with them. They weren’t mine. You and Cole are. The both of you are all I ever want. We’ve been trying to start a family for Christ’s sake.” He runs his hands up and down her arms, “I have no romantic feelings for them anymore. I haven’t for a long time.”  
   
She sniffles softly. “I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. They were just so perfect.”  
   
“No, you’re not being stupid.” Deacon assures her, “I get it.”  
   
He drops a kiss to her forehead and gently steps back, moving to Cole. He kisses him on the lips. When he breaks the kiss, Cole is smiling. “I think we should all go to bed.” He declares.  
   
“Fantastic idea.” Deacon agrees.  
   
“But you should take a shower first.” Cassie’s voice sounds back to normal, “You smell like cigarettes.”  
   
Deacon lifts a shoulder in a helpless shrug. “Guilty. I got one from Katarina’s stash.”  
   
The news actually makes Cassie laugh. “She has a stash here?”  
   
“She’s over here enough.” He grins and swats her on the ass as they head towards the bedroom, “Either of you care to join me?”  
   
They all end up in the shower. As much as he likes the familiar comfort of their shower, he misses the grand space the one from Jennifer’s house in the Keys. While Cassie and Cole climb into bed, he continues to dry off.

“I’m going to get some water. Want anything?” He asks them.

“Nope.” Cassie pulls the covers under her chin and Cole snuggles into her back.

Towel secure around his waist, Deacon moves into the kitchen, and pours himself a glass of water. He sets the glass down on the island and ducks down, pulling open the cabinet where the pots and pans are housed. Inside, all the way in the back is a compartment that he discovered after he moved in. What it’s purpose was really for, he has no idea but he’s found it a handy. Quietly opening it, he studies the two white ring boxes that are nestled inside.

The sight of them fills him with calm. Two years ago, this wasn’t possible. But with Cassie, with Cole he sees their future. More importantly, he wants that future. Wants them to be his forever. Wants their family. The false positive was a turning point for him, opening his heart to the possibility. Even though he’s still a little scared at the thought of becoming a father, his therapist has assured him even people that didn’t have his abusive history are just as afraid. And he's tired of being afraid, he would rather live.

Closing the drawer back up and shutting the cabinet door, Deacon smiles to himself. Making his way back into the bedroom, he hovers in the doorway, studying them. Cole catches his eye and gives him a smile.

“What are you doing over there?” He asks Deacon.

“Wondering how the fuck I ended up the luckiest bastard on the planet.” Deacon answers, his smile growing.

Cassie pats the bed beside her. “We’re all lucky. I didn’t know love could be like this.”

Deacon crosses the floor, climbs into his side of the mattress. The bed is nice and warm and he settles in. Rolling onto his side, he faces Cassie and twines his fingers with Cole’s, where they rest on Cassie’s hip. “I love you both, more than anything in this world.”

Cassie kisses the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.”

Cole’s fingers squeeze around his. “Love you too.”

As if he’s offended he wasn’t included in the moment, Amadeus sneezes loudly from his bed.

“And we love you, Amadeus.” Deacon assures him, chuckling quietly.

The lab just yawns in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting close to the end of the Deraile's story! I hope you enjoy these last few chapters! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.


	17. Here We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Sexual Content

# 17  
Here We Are

 

“Happy Birthday, old man.”

 

Cole’s sleep-thick voice, soft and growly in his ear roused Deacon from sleep. He cracks an eye open enough to shoot his boyfriend a half-hearted glare.

 

“Rude.” He grumbles, snaking an arm around Cole and tugging him over into the space that Cassie normally occupies. This morning she had a few things to do at the office but promised nothing that would steal her for the day, “’pose to be nice to me.”

 

A low chuckle rumbles through Cole’s chest, vibrating against Deacon’s ribs. “Oh, I plan to be very nice.”

 

That got Deacon’s attention enough that he makes the effort to actually open his eyes. “Oh?”

 

Cole’s skin, already warm against his body, heats into a flush as he gives Deacon a grin and drops a kiss to the side of his neck. His kisses trail down his chest, his abdomen, and lower. Kicking the covers off the bed, Deacon threads his hand into Cole’s hair. The soft, silky locks are getting longer than ever and Deacon gives them a gentle pull. Cole makes a quiet noise, something between a groan and a moan.

 

Cole’s mouth moves to Deacon’s already hard cock and Deacon can’t do anything but moan. Cole’s mouth is warm and wet, his tongue sliding along the underside of Deacon’s shaft. Deacon fights the consuming urge to use the hand in Cole’s hair to guide him down deeper so that Cole takes his cock into his throat. He’ll save that for later, when Cassie can join them; it makes her so wet when he does that.

 

Cole works him slow, a sweet torture, filled with nothing but pleasure. Every time Deacon feels the sparks of an oncoming orgasm, Cole backs off. Deacon growls at him but Cole just keeps it up.

 

“Fucker.” Deacon curses softly.

 

Cole chuckles. “You love it.”

 

He does. His attention is pulled from Cole when Cassie fills the doorway. Her hair is back in a ponytail, green eyes burning with lust. She licks her lips, watching Cole’s head bob for a moment before she lifts her gaze to Deacon’s.

  
“Looks like I made good timing.” She declares.

 

Deacon holds out his free hand to her. “Welcome home.”

 

She strips quickly, tossing her clothes to the floor in a rumpled pile, pulls the ponytail holder from her hair and tosses it on the top of the dresser. “Happy Birthday, Deacon.” She smiles as she joins them on the bed.

 

Instead of giving him a kiss on the lips, her mouth meets Cole’s over the tip of his cock in a hot, tongue teasing kiss. Fuck, he’s not even offended. Pleasure bites with an edge like electricity. It’s enough to set Deacon on edge. Then they’re both working is shaft with their mouths, sharing and taking turns until he’s panting, cock glistening, and he’s so fucking close to coming that he’s almost aching.

 

“Fuck.” He hisses.

 

“Where do you want to come?” Cole asks, his hand curling around Deacon’s cock, pumping slow as he and Cassie straighten, their eyes fixed on him.

 

“In Cassie.” Deacon answers. It’s been over two months since they started fucking without a condom at every moment available and he’ll be damned if he’s about to stop now.

 

With a grin, Cassie straddles his hips and sinks down onto him. Her walls are tight, gripping him hard enough he groans as she takes all of him to the hilt.

 

“Fuck.” She breathes, her voice nearly a gasp.

 

Cole stretches out next to Deacon, his hand on his cock as Cassie begins to move. Deacon reaches for him, pulling his face to his, until he catches his mouth in a fierce kiss. He breaks the kiss, panting as Cassie’s walls squeeze his cock. Deacon’s gaze drift back to Cassie and she’s fucking glorious.

 

“Fuck, she looks so perfect riding you.” Cole grinds out, his teeth tugging on Deacon’s earlobe.

 

Deacon makes a noise of approval because his brain is about to short out as she moves harder, faster, the slap of their bodies coming together driving him crazy. He grabs her hips, blunt nails digging into her skin as he’s pushed over the edge, coming hard. Cassie’s thighs are shaking as she blankets herself over him, her mouth colliding with his in a slow kiss as she slowly rocks, continuing to ride him until he’s soft and spent.

 

Cole grabs her hips and angles her until her back is bowed. She squeaks and breaks from Deacon’s lips. Deacon lets his gaze travel up her back to the fine view of her ass. Cole is between her legs, his hand slowly working his shaft. Deacon twines his hand into Cassie’s hair.

 

“Ready for him, sweetness?” He asks her

 

“Yes.” Her eyes are at half mast, kiss-swollen lips parted.

 

“Fuck her.” Deacon tells Cole, “Make her come all over your cock.”

 

With a wild grin, Cole pushes inside of her and Cassie buries her face into Deacon’s neck with a whine.

 

“Good?” Deacon asks, stroking her hair.

 

“God, yes.” Her voice is muffled against his skin.

 

Smiling he trails his hand down her spine to her ass. He gives it a light smack and winks at Cole. Cole smiles at him, blue eyes filled with adoration and lust. Deacon watched his hand slid over Cassie’s hip and down. Her helpless moans tell Deacon that Cole is working her clit as he fucks her. Her cries grow as Cole’s thrusts get shorter, deeper. Deacon can feel the tension in her body, feel her inching closer and closer to that moment where pleasure pushed over into a full orgasm. Cole curses and lets out a shuddering breath as Cassie’s body goes slack against Deacon’s.

 

Deacon murmurs praises as she shivers and shudders as Cole pulls out and they reposition themselves into a tangle of limbs. Quiet falls between them and all Deacon can hear is his heartbeat and their heavy breathing.

 

“Definitely my best birthday present.” Deacon breaks the silence.

 

Cole chuckles and Cassie gives him a squeeze, her arms tightening around his waist. A loud rapid knock at the front door interrupts the post coital buzz and Deacon looks his loves.

 

“Five bucks Jennifer is going to waltz in.”

 

“I’ll take that bet.” Cole agrees.

 

Less than a minute later, Jennifer’s voice carries through the apartment. “Please tell me my timing is impeccable and you’ve stopped doing naughty things!”

 

“Your timing is impeccable.” Deacon calls back, “But we’re still naked.”

 

“Thanks for the heads up!” She chirps, laughing. Deacon can hear the clinking of Amadeus’ dog tags. No doubt, the pup is lavishing her with kisses, “Now shower and get your ass out here so I can start celebrating with you! That means no funny business in the shower! Including butt stuff!”

 

Cassie’s expression is priceless; somewhere between amusement and horror with a touch of embarrassment. Cole just laughs, his cheeks flushing. It’s fucking adorable.

 

“Butt stuff is never funny business.” Deacon quips, “It’s good business.”

 

Jennifer’s huffing laugh reaches his ears. “Save that for later, you kinky fuckers.”

 

“Since when is butt stuff kinky?” Deacon demands.

 

Cassie chokes on what could be laughter and gives his shoulder a light shove. “Stop encouraging her!”

 

“As you wish.” He laughs. He needs to get his ass in the shower anyways. Peaches isn’t known for her patience.

 

They manage a quick shower and get dressed within thirty minutes. Deacon is barely out of the hall when Jennifer pounces, bounding up into his arms in a tackle hug.

 

“Happy Birthday, Deeks!” She plants a big, lip smacking kiss on his cheek and sets a paper crown on his head.

 

He laughs and gives her a squeeze as he carries her into the kitchen. He sets her on the island. “Thanks, Peaches.”

 

Cassie and Cole putter about the kitchen, getting coffee started while Jennifer swings her feet as she watches. “So, I know these two have claimed you for the entire weekend so you can live that old man, country house life for a few days.” She declares, “But tonight, we have dinner with the Splinter fam and your bro and Max. And this afternoon, you’re all mine.” She rubs her hands together and it makes her words seem vaguely like a threat.

 

Cole presses a coffee mug into Deacon’s hand, along with a kiss with enough edge that it makes his toes curl, makes him slide his arm around Cole and pull him closer.

 

“Ahem.” Jennifer pointedly clears her throat, “James Cole, if you don’t behave, I will make you pay. You have all weekend for debauchery.”

 

Cole laughs and pulls away. He reaches for Jennifer’s hand, gives her a tug and she slides off the counter. He draws her into a hug and she melts.

 

“Ah, Otter Eyes. You still got my heart.” She chuckles, cuddling into him.

 

Cassie slid her arm around Deacon and rested her head on his shoulder.

 

“Have fun.” She murmurs, lifting her head and pressing her lips against the underside of his chin, carefully taking the mug from his fingers as Jennifer springs from Cole’s embrace and bounces back over to him.

 

“Always do with Peaches.” Deacon answers as he lets Jennifer pull him out of Cassie’s arms and out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, after a wild afternoon of shenanigans with Jennifer and a fantastic evening dinner with Jennifer, Cole, Cassie, the rest of their Splinter Family, Max, and Shawn, Deacon groans as he lowers himself onto the soft mattress in their bedroom at the country house.

 

“Sweet Christ, I am old.” He mutters.

 

Cole’s husky laughter reaches his ear as Cole crawls into bed beside him, sliding an arm around his bare waist.

 

“You’re not old.” Cole chuckles, calloused fingers scratching gently against his ribs, “You just spent the afternoon doing crazy shit with Jennifer. It’s enough to leave anyone wiped out.”

 

“Worth it though.” Deacon can’t stop smiling, “It was the best fucking birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

 

“Good.” Cole’s lips brush his neck before he nuzzles his face against his skin. Cole’s beard chafes a little but Deacon enjoys the warmth of the burn.

 

Deacon hears footsteps on the stairs and Cassie enters the room. She’s dressed in one of his thermal shirts and a pair of Cole’s flannel pants. Her glasses are pushed up into her hair, balancing near her messy bun. Amadeus is behind her, glued to her like a second shadow. A second shadow with a happy wagging tail, anyways. In her hands, she’s holding something wrapped.

 

“Cas, you know I said no gifts.” He tells her gently as he sits up, chiding gently.

 

She gives him a small smile. “Well, this gift isn’t just for you so it doesn’t count.” A few steps carry her to the bed where she sits down in front of him and places the object into his hands, “But you do get to unwrap it.”

 

It’s square and thick and he raises his eyebrow at her but begins to tear at the wrapping. Tossing the paper to the floor, he stares at the frame in his hands. Inside is a small black and white picture. It has two void looking circles with tiny outlines inside that look vaguely like beans with arms. One has a tiny little “A” next to the rounded top while the other has a “B”. There’s text at the top that reads “Happy Birthday, Daddy!”

 

Deacon’s world goes a little hazy as tears fill his eyes and he blinks. Holy fucking shit. He’s going to be a father. His heart is racing and when vision clears, his eyes snap up to Cassie, who’s smiling at him with a knowing look. Cole’s hand curls around his thigh and squeezes.

 

“Happy Birthday, Deacon.” Cassie says.

 

Deacon reaches over and grabs her, pulling her close, his mouth crashing onto hers. When they break, Cole is there, his mouth claiming hers before his mouth moves onto Deacon’s. There’s nothing but kissing and hugging and tears of joy for god knows how long. The moments all meld together until Deacon can finally bring himself to start asking questions.  
  


“How far along are you?”

 

“Eight weeks. I wanted to wait until I knew it was real this time.” Her voice is soft, “I found out that it was twins today. It was my first ultrasound.”

 

He swallows, nods. “Can I be there for the next one?”

 

Cassie smiles brightly. “Of course. Both of you can come along to any of my appointments.”

 

“Good.” Cole nods, “I’m pretty sure it’d take an act of God for us not to.”

 

Deacon makes a noise of agreement. “Take your shirt off.”

 

Laughing, Cassie deposits her glasses onto the nightstand and pulls the shirt over her head, revealing lots of pale naked skin and the wonderful fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Though he appreciates that, his focus is drawn to her abdomen. He places his hand across her skin and she lets out a throatier chuckle.

 

“You saw me naked earlier, Deacon.” Her voice is teasing, “I may show faster with twins but not that fast.”

 

His lips curve as he lets out a soft snort. “I’m no doctor but I do know that much.”

 

He pulls her back to him, sighing at the velvety touch of her soft skin against his. He gropes for Cole and tugs him into the embrace. Deacon drops kisses to their shoulders and lifts his face, eyes moving between them.

 

“There has been no moment in my life more perfect than right now.” He draws a breath, settling down onto the mattress and pulling them down with him, “I love you both so fucking much.”

 

“And we love you.” Cassie replies, cuddling into the crook of his arm, her hand coming to rest on her abdomen, “All of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! One more chapter and the epilogue to go until the end of their story. Feedback is appreciated


	18. Until The End

Tension knots his shoulders tight enough that the muscles feel like a rubber band ready to snap, the burning ache radiating up into his neck. A soft groan leaves Deacon’s lips as he tries to massage the stiffness away, fingers barely offering relief. Leaning back in his desk chair, he glances at the clock in the corner of his computer monitor. Just thirty minutes more until his shift is over and he can start getting ready for the big night.

 

The Emerson, now under Cole and Jennifer’s ownership, is finally having its grand re-opening. Between Cole working the long hours preparing, the three of them navigating the in between phase of moving into their new place, Deacon has barely seen his lovers. But that changes tonight. Tonight, they get to relax and party and have fun. He’s more than ready for it.

 

After those thirty minutes’ pass, Deacon makes his way up to the apartment. The stress slips from his shoulders but the anxiety hangs in his chest, lingering like a hangover. Stepping through the door, the cavernous emptiness strikes him. This is the last time they’ll be here. All their stuff is in their house besides their clothes for this evening. Amadeus is spending the night over at Shawn’s and Deacon would easily bet any money that Max will be there too. This era of his life is coming to a close. When he moved in, he was alone. Save for Shawn and Max, of course. But now he had friends, his found family, and his own was just beginning.

 

A smile tugs his lips and his chest feels tight. He couldn’t have imagined this life for himself. Turns out, reality is much better anyways.

 

Stopping into the kitchen, he pulls out the two rings from their hiding place and ditches the boxes, slipping the rings into his pockets. Cassie’s laughter spills from the direction of the master bathroom and he makes his way there, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe as he watches Cole make a final adjustment to his tie, callous fingers tugging the knot into place. Cassie is putting on a deep red lipstick that distracts Deacon enough that when he looks away, he catches Cole watching him in the mirror. Cole smiles. It’s that smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes and warms his blue eyes.

 

“Hey.” Cole greets him.

 

Cassie grins as she caps the lipstick and sets it on the counter. “Welcome home.”

 

“You two look incredible.” Deacon tells them, pushing off the frame and stepping inside.

 

Cassie wrinkles her nose. “I’m not even dressed yet.”

 

Deacon’s grin shifts to a leer. “Still look incredible to me.”

 

“Sweet talker.” She demurs, then laughs and turns, hand absently rubbing her twenty-four week belly. Their babies are growing and healthy. “Help me get in my dress?”

 

“Of course.” Her dress is hanging on the door and he takes it down, sliding the straps off the hanger. It’s silver and sparkly and custom made to fit her.

 

There’s more laughter and Cole joins in, zipping up the back of the dress because Deacon ends up kissing her, wanting to just pull the garment back down. Once he breaks the kiss, Cassie turns and looks at the mirror, red lips tilting down into a slight frown.

 

“What is it?” Cole asks.

 

“I look like a disco ball.” She grumbles.

 

It takes everything Deacon has not to actual laugh out loud because she looks so damn frustrated and it’s adorable. Instead he, moves around her and takes her face into his hands. “You look stunning.”

 

“You have to say that.” She sighs but rubs her cheek against his palm.

 

“Come on, sweetness, you know me better than that. I wouldn’t blow smoke up just to make you feel better.”

 

She huffs. “True.” Pulling back slightly, she smiles, “You need to get dressed. We’ve got about twenty minutes until the car arrives.”

 

“You just want me to get naked.” He gives her a wink.

 

“Busted.” Cassie holds up her hands.

 

It takes him less than ten minutes to get dressed. While Cassie and Cole are talking, focused on whatever they’re wrapped up in, Deacon transfer the rings into the pockets of his dress pants. Once he’s finished, he faces them and clears his throat. The pair breaks their conversation and look at him.

 

“Damn, you clean up well.” Cole grins.

 

Cassie hums in agreement, teeth tugging at her bottom lip. “Very well.”

 

Deacon chuckles. “You have that look like you want to eat me alive, Cas.”

 

She just grins. “I’d apologize but…” She trails off with a shrug.

 

Deacon steps around them in a circle, surveying them. “I’d say we all clean up very well.” He stops in front of them, brings his hand to his chin in mock consideration, “But you’re both missing…something.”

 

Their expression turn to matching confusion.

 

“What?” Cassie asks.

 

Deacon reaches into his pockets and pulls out the rings, holding them out to his lovers in the palm of his hand. “These.”

 

Cassie’s hands go to her mouth and her eyes go bright with tears. Cole’s eyes slowly lift to Deacon’s and they’re a touch wet too.

 

Swallowing thickly, Deacon studies them both. His heart is pounding so hard, he tries to keep his voice even. “What do you say?”

 

“Yes.” Cassie’s voice comes out in almost a whisper and Cole echoes her, nodding.

 

Relief floods him and slides the multicolored bands onto their ring fingers. Then he kisses them, slow and deep, joy sparking his veins.

 

“I love you.” Cassie murmurs when they part, sniffling a little.

 

“I love you too, sweetness.” He wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

 

Cole’s arm slides around Deacon from behind and his breath brushes over Deacon’s ear. “I love you, Deacon.”

 

“I love you too.” Deacon replies.

 

The moment is interrupted by a vibration from Cole’s pants pocket that Deacon can feel against his ass.

 

“Cole, we don’t have time for that. Save it for later.” He teases.

 

“Wise ass.” Cole mutters, voice colored with amusement as he pulls out his phone, “Our car is here.”

 

Quickly, they pack their clothes and other sundries into a duffle bag. When they reach door, Cassie pauses.

 

“So many good memories here.” She murmurs, eyeing the empty apartment.

 

Deacon makes a noise of agreement in his throat. “More good memories to come in our new place.”

  
Her smile is beautiful. Cole gives their hands a squeeze. “Time to go.” His voice is patient.

 

“No good keeping Peaches waiting.” Deacon agrees and locks the door behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

Deacon’s chin rests gently on top of Cassie’s as they sway to the slow music that fills the ballroom. Their dance wasn’t as fancy as times previous, not that Cassie’s couldn’t given the state but because Deacon can’t bring himself to let her go further than the little distance between their bodies. He should be feeling something close to ecstasy with Cassie and Cole wearing his engagement rings but anxiety still digs through him, tightening his chest. Unconsciously, the hand that rests on the small of Cassie’s back presses tighter and she lifts her head.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, eyes flicking over his face.

 

“Nothing, sweetness. Just enjoying you being close.” He downplays the feelings, not wanting to worry her.

 

“You realize I could hear how loud and fast your heart was pounding, right?” Cassie’s brow arches.

 

“You always make my heartbeat faster.”

 

“Deacon.” She sighs and pulls back, “What is it?”

 

“Literally nothing, Cas.” He mutters, “Everything is incredible.” And that’s the truth, despite his body screaming otherwise.

 

Cassie studies him for another minute and nods. “Okay.” A wince tightens her mouth, “If you’ll excuse me, one of your children is using my bladder as a trampoline.”

 

He chuckles and escorts her off the dance floor, then goes to find Cole. Finding him doesn’t take long. His lover is in the bar, with the rest of their Splinter family, sitting a small circle of arm chairs. It strikes him of the last time they were all together in that other timeline, sitting just like that. Only this time, they’re not saying good bye. This time, they’re celebrating. Cole spots him and smiles. Deacon can feel his smile grow in response and pauses besides Jennifer’s chair, leaning over to drop a kiss to her artfully crafted curls.

 

“You just missed Jennifer interrogating me about our future wedding.” Cole tells him with a chuckle.

 

“Hey! I was not interrogating!” Jennifer protests, her hands moving as ardently as her words, “I merely had a few questions.”

 

“Try about two dozen.” Ramse’s laugh is warm with affection.

 

“Congratulations, by the way.” Whitley lifts his tumbler, “Traffic was a bitch tonight and I missed the announcement.”

 

Deacon smiles and it helps beat back the strength of anxiety’s hold. “Thanks, Marcus. I’m a very lucky man.”

 

A warm presence at his back alerts him to Cassie’s return before she presses herself into his side.

 

“Here, Cassie, take my chair—“ Whitley is halfway out of his seat before her protests reach his ear.

 

“No, Marcus, you’re sweet but I’m good.” Her hand absently rubs her belly, “If I try to get that low, I may need a crane to lift me back up.”

 

Whitley sits back down. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

 

Her smile is beautiful. “I will.”

 

“May I?” Jennifer’s hand hovers above Cassie’s baby bump.

 

“Of course.” Cassie’s smile is filled with affection and she takes Jennifer’s hand and guides it onto her belly.

 

Jennifer makes a small amused sound as she splays her fingers. “Hello in there.”

 

“Do you have name ideas yet?” Hannah asks.

 

“A few.” Cole answers, “We know one for sure. The other is undecided yet.”

 

“Athan?” Jennifer makes it a question.

 

Cassie nods. “Athan Matthew.”

 

Deacon looks to Hannah, finds her eyes glimmering. “Oh.” She says softly, "He would've liked that."

 

Cole reaches over and catches her hand, giving it a squeeze.

 

“What are you going to do about the last name?” Ramse asks, “Has that been discussed?”

 

Cassie nods. “Deacon-Cole.”

 

Ramse laughs, shaking his head. “Never would I have expected little Deacon-Cole’s running around.”

 

“It’s a brand new world.” Deacon replies.

 

 

 

 

Hours later after the party has ended and Deacon, Cole, and Cassie are tucked into Room 607. The rest of the Splinter Family has their own permanent rooms as well, Jennifer and Cole presented them with keys when they closed down the bar.

 

Deacon is on the cusp of sleep when he hears something beyond the noise of the city outside the window and Cole’s even breathing beside him. He hears it again, it’s quiet but filled with sorrow. Pushing back the covers, he climbs from the bed, hunting for the source of the noise. In the living space, he finds Cassie on the couch, her face buried in her hands. He hears her sniffle and her shoulders tremble with her sobs. Moving to the couch, he settles down beside her.

 

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” He asks.

 

“Did I wake you?” Her voice is thick as she lifts her face. The tip of her nose is pink and her cheeks are blotchy and red, “I’m sorry.”

 

He grabs a tissue from the coffee table across from them and hands it to her. “No need to apologize. What’s wrong?” His heart squeezes, “Is it the babies?”

 

“No, no.” She shakes her head, “They’re alright. It’s just me.”

 

He slides an arm around her shoulders and presses her close. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’ve been remembering when I was pregnant in the other timeline. And what happened when Athan was born…” She draws in a breath and it shudders through her, “They took him from me, Deacon. It may be irrational but I’m scared it’s going to happen again.”

 

He brushes his lips to her temple, her cheek. Everywhere he can reach, in hopes that it brings her some comfort. “It won’t.” He promises, “Cole and I are going to be with you every step of the way. It’s just going to be us and your doctor and the nurses. We won’t let anything happen to you and our babies.”

 

She rests her head on his shoulder and sniffles quietly. “I know. I know we’re safe here. But I can’t seem to shake the feeling. Of everything that happened in that life, that was the worst thing that happened to me. They drugged me as I gave birth and took him from me when I was unconscious. I didn’t get to hold him. I saw him for only a moment before they splintered him away. They took my child and made him into…into…the Witness because of a lie!”

 

Under the curve of his arm, she trembles and he drops more kisses to her hair. “We broke the cycle, Cassandra. We escaped. He’ll never become the facsimile of the Witness. He won’t be Primary. He’ll be ours. Him and his sister.”

 

Cassie lifts her head and gives him a smile. She leans in and places a tear-touched kiss to his lips. “I love you, Theodore William Deacon.” She murmurs, “You’re going to be an incredible father.”

 

Deacon cups her jaw, thumb wiping away the last remnant of her tears. “I love you too, Cassie. You’re going to be an incredible mother.” 

 

He seals his words with a kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thank you so much for reading!


	19. Ashes of Eden

It’s time.

 

But it’s early.

 

They knew that most twins were born early. But the fact theirs decide to make their grand entrance into the world a week before Cassie was scheduled for her C-Section fills Deacon with fear. A new fear he hadn’t expected; leaves him helpless. He knows that they’re in a safe zone of weeks developed but fuck, how do people handle this?

 

 The time between the moment her water broke—while she was making a cup of tea in their spacious new kitchen—until the time she was admitted into the hospital and whisked away into her room on the maternity floor moves like a blur.

 

Deacon is trying to be calm, for her, for the babies but holy fucking shit, his nerves are on frayed as thin as a strand of silk. He’s tried all his usual tricks to keep from being taken over by the sheer stress of the situation. He fields a glance in Cole’s direction and he seems so serene through it all. If Deacon didn’t love him, he’d be tempted to punch him.

 

Fuck, who was he kidding. He may still punch him before the day was over.

 

Hell, Cole may punch him too. Who the fuck knew? This was new territory to them both.

 

Swallowing hard, he moves to Cassie. She’s breathing her way through a contraction, pain naked on her face. The machines that monitor her heart rate, contractions, and the babies heart beats reflect that everyone is doing and that the contraction has passed. He grabs a hand towel from their hospital bag and gently dabs at the sweat that beads along her hairline.

 

Her smile is soft. “Thank you.”

 

“Wish I could do more.” He murmurs.

 

She lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “Next time, you carry the babies.”

 

He chuckles with her. “Maybe in another universe. I’m sure there’s a timeline where it’s possible.” He replies with a wink.

 

That even earns him a small laugh from Cole. There’s an edge to it; it betrays Cole’s nerves and it serves as a salve to Deacon’s frayed nerve endings. Reminds him they’re in the same boat, helpless to truly help Cassie.

 

The doctor comes in and the nurses shoo Deacon and Cole off to the side a bit while they prep her for the C-Section.  After they administered a spinal block via a giant needle in her spinal cord, the nurses and doctor wheeled her out of the room and to the operating room. They were ordered to follow a tiny nurse in bright pink scrubs into a little side room outside the OR that housed various sizes of plain green scrubs.

 

“Put those on and an orderly will come and get out when you can join her inside.” The nurse explained with a smile before disappearing.

 

Deacon wastes no time pulling on a pair of scrubs over his clothes. When he’s finished, he looks to Cole, reaching for his hands. Much to his surprise, his fiance’s hands are shaking slightly. Deacon gives him a squeeze, brings them up to his lips.

 

“You okay?” He asks, searching his face, brushing his lips against his knuckles.

 

Cole nods, flushing a little. “Nervous.”

 

“Me too.” The confession is off his tongue before he can stop it; he couldn’t pretend to be anything else even if he wanted.

 

An orderly wearing a maroon uniform steps into the room. “You two waiting for Railly?”

 

“Yeah.” Deacon answers.

 

“She’s ready now. Follow me.”

 

Deacon holds Cole’s hand as they’re lead into the OR. Cassie’s laying on a table. There’s a sheet that’s set up like a divider, bisecting her body. It shields her from seeing what they’re about to do and one look at Cassie’s face tells him she doesn’t like it. He and Cole cross the room and stand on either side of her. Her eyes are wide and her lips look paler. He crouches down until his lips can brush her ear.

 

“It’s okay, Cas.” He drops a kiss to the shell of her ear, “You’re okay.”

 

“Will you stay down there?” She asks, her voice tremors quietly, “Will you be okay with seeing…everything?”

 

“I’ll be fine. I just want you to be able to relax.” He kisses her quickly, then straightens.

 

He brushes a quick kiss on Cole’s lips before he moves down to the other end of the bed. After making sure he’s out of the way of the medical staff, he takes a breath. Steels himself. This is it. Holy fucking shit. When the doctor comes in, Deacon’s heart squeezes tight. It’s really happening.

 

The surgical part of the procedure doesn’t phase him, he’d watched some videos beforehand to learn what took place. But then it happens. Their first child makes their grand appearance with a loud, incessant wail. Tears sting at his eyes as Athan Matthew is passed off to the nurses to be weighed and measured and cleaned. The doctor resumes his work and twelve seconds later, Everly Marion comes into the world, crying just as bit as loud as her brother.

 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

 

They’re here.

 

His children.

 

Their babies.

 

They look healthy. All fingers and toes accounted for. The nurses are calling out stats to each other but Deacon’s focus is locked on the tiny bundles. He vaguely aware he’s moving, returning to Cassie and Cole.

 

“How do they look?” Cassie’s eyes are shining with unshed tears.

 

“Perfect!” Deacon laughs softly, “Healthy.”

 

“Okay, Mom,” One of the nurses coos, “Here they are!”

 

Athan and Everly, now cleaned and swaddled are carried to Cassie. The tears fall now, trailing down her cheeks. Securely placed in her arms, Cassie brushes a kiss to each of their heads. Deacon is vaguely aware that his cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling so damn much but he couldn’t stop if he wanted.

 

“Do you want to hold them?” Cassie asks.

 

Deacon nods and reaches for Everly. She’s the closest to him and after a minute of awkward shifting, she in his arms. He’s never held a baby before and holding Everly rocks his foundation. She’s so small, so delicate. Her eyes are green and there’s a light dusting of blonde hair across her head. She looks like her mother. Precious.

 

“Hi, Everly.” He murmurs, “I’m your Daddy.”

 

She squirms a little and yawns. He takes it as she’s pleased to meet him too. He looks over to Cole, who’s holding Athan. He looks just as awestruck. Rounding the table, Deacon stands beside him and takes in their son. His eyes are blue and has dark hair. He’s just as precious.  How could a moment be so perfect?

 

“You did it, sweetness.” Deacon murmurs to Cassie but then his gaze drifts back to Everly, “Our family is here.”

 

He lifts his head and all the good feelings vanish. The staff is gone. The table is gone. Cassie is gone.

 

_No._

 

Shock drenches him, rushing through his body like a cold wave. His lungs wring tight and he can’t breathe, cuddling Everly closer to his chest. He looks to where Cole stood with Athan and they’re gone too.

 

“No.” The word leaves his lips in a low cry and tears fill his eyes, “No. Please.”

 

He looks down and Everly is still there in his arms but she’s flickering in an out, like bad reception on a hologram.

 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Deacon grits out as if the words could stop the awfulness that’s unfolding before him.

 

It doesn’t. His arms no longer bear Everly’s weight as she vanishes and his arms are empty. He squeezes his eyes shut as a scream builds in his throat. Pain rips through him and he understands the agony Cassie had gone through when they took Athan from her. Words can barely touch how deep his sorrow runs. His heart is eviscerated.

 

Shaking knees give out and he screams as he collapses to the floor. Red vines wrap around the room, engulfing everything around him. The wall before him rips open and envelopes him in a white light. He closes his eyes against the harsh brightness as it blots out the world around him.

 

When Deacon opens his eyes, his head fucking hurts. His eyes scan the interior of his tent from the seat behind his desk and everything looks the same. Nothing is out of place, nothing missing.

 

So why does his chest feel…wrong?

 

Running a hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. Fuck if he knows. Nothing alcohol won’t cure. He reaches for the bottle that rests in the corner and unscrews the cap. He takes a long drink, his parched throat working to pull down as much as he can. Without hesitation or invitation, the door flap is pushed open and the Mother enters, cursing up a storm.

 

It’s barely been a day since she blew his goddamn mind revealing that not only was time travel was real but he was a key player in saving the world before she nearly blew him the fuck up with a paradox just to prove her point like the crazy bitch she was. It hasn’t been long enough time between her visits to his liking. He has just begun to wrap his mind around the truth of the apocalypse and the fact that she and him were close. Not just close but closer than he’d been with anyone… _ever_. It still struck him that the crazy old bat knew him as well, if not better, than he knew himself.

 

“What did you do?!” Jennifer hisses, her body moving faster than her stiff posture should be allowing.

 

He resents the accusation instantly. “Good to see you too, Madre.” He replies, setting down the bottle with a solid _thunk_ , “What the hell are you going on about?”

 

She blinks, fathomless dark eyes narrowing in his direction with the weight Time burning behind them. “Something happened to the cycle!” She snaps.

 

Cycle? He holds up his hands. “I haven’t touched anything.”

 

“Theodore William Deacon.” Her voice is almost a growl, “Stop giving me grief!”

 

Nothing sends fury rising quite like the sound of his full name being spoke. It rushes through him like fire, sets his jaw tighter. He’s on his feet, toe to toe with the old biddy. “Watch it, Granny.” He warns her, harshly, “My head fucking hurts and I’m in no goddamn mood to deal with your bullshit.”

 

“ _My bullshit?!_ ” She demands incredulously, “Who said it was _my_ bullshit.”

 

“You’re the one that told me all about this war, about time travel. That I’m supposed to help you take down Titan when you call. That I’m going to wind up on the same side as Cole and fucking Ramse. That I should put old business behind me.” Deacon answers, “You paradoxed the shit out of my knife. How do I know you didn’t paradox something again?”

 

Jennifer stares up at him with those eyes of hers. He glares back as his temples throb painfully. If she wants a staring contest, fucking bring it. But when her gaze drops, she suddenly goes still. Almost inhumanly. Christ, his head fucking hurts.

 

“Jennifer?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “I don’t have time for this.”

 

“Something’s changed.” She whispers, so quiet he almost misses it, “Something in our cycle has changed…but I can’t see it. It’s…hidden.”

 

He breathes in slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, trying so very hard not to lose his shit. “What does that mean?”

 

When her eyes find his again, her pupils are blown so wide that they have nearly eclipsed the rich brown of her irises.

 

“The Red Forest is broken. It’s falling apart because something happened in our last cycle that shouldn’t have.” Her voice sounds deeper, almost like an echo.

 

A chill runs down his spine. “What?”

 

She lifts her tiny shoulders in a shrug, suddenly more animated than she was a moment ago. “We need the others. And we need to find out what happened. We may have a new weapon to destroy Olivia and get off this sick psycho carousel once and for all.”

 

Nothing more satisfying than taking down an enemy. Especially one like Olivia. Bloodlust hums through his veins and Deacon gives her a wolfish smile. “You had me at destroy.”

 

The corner of her mouth quirks into a smirk. “Let’s assemble the avengers and bring down the wicked bitch of the west.”

 

 

 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed their story so far! Yes, I decided to end it with a twist (and to be continued) as what comes next was a spark that would not leave my mind. Then that spark was nurtured into a flame by my dearest bestie. The Deraile's story isn't over yet and their happily ever after will happen, that I promise!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated!


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